


Counting Bodies Like Sheep

by rightonthelimit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Anal, Blood, Cannibalism, Dirty Talk, Gore, Horror, M/M, Oral, Religious Conflict, Religious Fanaticism, Rimming, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Slut Shaming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 70,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a crazy world torn straight out of a horror movie - the undead roam the earth and destroy everything in their wake. When Harry Potter narrowly escapes a horrible death he finds himself a companion in Tom Riddle - a mysterious, heartless man who doesn't hesitate to take lives to save his own. Savage as the man is, Harry still finds himself enthralled... He quickly starts developing strange needs and feelings.</p><p>When they decide to finally find a safe place to settle down for a while they encounter dangerous enemies on their path. Tom's past demons come back around to haunt the both of them and it becomes very clear that even after the years they spent together, Harry really doesn't know Tom at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Fret Precious I'm Here

**A/N:** This story was inspired by the movie Stakeland and follows the major lines of that work. It's a movie I highly recommend for all of you who adore zombies as much as I do. This was originally posted around 2012, edited into what you are currently reading in 2015. I decided to polish CBLS up because I want it to be worthy of all the praise I have received for it - going through my old fiction is like a massive cringe-fest. 0/10 would not recommend.

I hope you'll still like it! Thank you so much for the overwhelming response. I never thought one of my stories would ever receive the amount of love this one did - even three years later I still receive kind messages regarding this story.

I named this story after [this song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=93ByMEx50Zc) I will post a full playlist of this fanfiction at the end of the story - hope you enjoy!

  **Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

 **Summary:** It's a crazy world torn straight out of a horror movie - the undead roam the earth and destroy everything in their wake. When Harry Potter narrowly escapes a horrible death he finds himself a companion in Tom Riddle - a mysterious, heartless man who doesn't hesitate to take lives to save his own. Savage as the man is, Harry still finds himself enthralled... He quickly starts developing strange needs and feelings.

When they decide to finally find a safe place to settle down for a while they find dangerous enemies on their path. Tom's past demons come back around to haunt the both of them and it becomes very clear that even after the years they spent together, Harry really doesn't know Tom at all. 

 **Warnings:** Alternative Universe - zombies, innocent!Harry, horror, gore, sexual content such as (but not limited by); anal, oral, fingering, spanking, rimming, dirty talk, slut shaming, semi-public sex

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 1

_**'Don't fret precious I'm here'** _

His name was Harry Potter.

He was 16 years old and didn't really have a home right now. He had that in common with the rest of the human population.

He wasn't very tall, his skin was pale and his hair was messy. He had vivid green eyes peeking out from behind his glasses and his attractive face was currently bruised. His swollen lip was in the process of healing and it no longer hurt to smile, though admittedly he rarely found reason to do so. The cut on his bare arm was almost completely gone and it would soon become a silver line, joining the rest of the scars on Harry's skin. He had gathered a large collection of scars these last years - they didn't even map out half of what Harry had been through to obtain them. 

Harry didn't care much about getting scars anymore. He would take a new scar over death any day.

There was a knife hidden in one of his army boots and a gun strapped to his leg. In the backpocket of the worn, slightly oversized jeans he was wearing were a random collection of extra bullets that jingled when he walked. The tank top that kept his chest from being exposed to the warm air was stained with dirt, and had a tear on the side from when Harry had gotten stuck climbing over a fence.

It was Summer - the sun was making his exposed arms and neck stick to the worn leather of the car they were seated in, and his eyes drooped shut every now and then before he'd shoot back up and tried to force himself to stay awake. The nasty sunburn on his shoulders and the bridge of his nose was no longer a constant ache but he knew he should avoid direct sunlight for a few days anyway. He didn't want to fall ill and be a nuisance.

Harry was tired. It had been weeks since they had actually found a place safe enough to sleep, besides their car. They had been driving around aimlessly, raiding supermarkets, fighting for their lives.

Killing people who were in reality no longer actual people.

The breakout had been 4 years ago now if Harry should believe what he had been told. He himself had lost track of time – to him it was simply Summer or Winter, and everything in between didn't matter. He had learned to tell the time by checking the position of the sun and he could read the stars, but he didn't very often use that skill. Knowing what time or month it was didn't get you far in this world anymore.

There had been a virus and it had spread like a wildfire. The virus made decent people turn into animals – made them lose all sense of things that were important and forced them to rely solely on their basic instincts. Their intelligence withered away as their bodies healed in a superhuman fashion the first hours of their infection. After the infection settled, there was only one thing the victim would focus on.

The need to feed.

Harry had been twelve years old when he had found out just how horribly cruel the effects of the virus truly were. At the beginning of it all everyone had been arrogant enough to believe that current technology and modern medicine would fix everything.

How wrong they had been.

Though the years had passed and blurred Harry still dearly cherished where he came from and dreamed of his parents' faces almost every night. He had been born at the death of July to James Potter, a praised and dedicated police officer, and Lily Potter who was mostly known for the love and care she put into her work as a doctor. They had always lived a quiet family life in Godric's Hollow - close by their work, but cut off a bit from the nearby large city. Looking back on it that had probably been the reason why Harry had been able to live long enough to see his sixteenth birthday.

* * *

_Harry was bored out of his skull._

_His parents hadn't paid much attention when Harry tried telling them about school today - about how a boy named Neville had cried in class because he thought the world was ending. There were a lot of sick people nowadays and the small radio Harry had on his desk interrupted its music to bring its listeners news and warnings - Harry only half-listened as he played with his soldier figurines. He still had homework to finish but he figured he could do it after dinner. It wasn't like his parents noticed he hadn't done it yet, anyway._

'-recommend you stay inside after dark, and stock up on food during the day. The Prime-Minister announced he is doing everything he can to not only avoid further contamination but to also help those who are already -'

_'-need to leave, James! You and your men can't hold them off, one bite is enough! Today in the emergency I saw a man's stabwound heal in mere seconds with my own eyes, he was completely incoherent and violent! Something is happening, something... It's as though they aren't even human anymore.'_

_Harry turned the radio down to curiously listen to his parents' voices. His parents rarely argued - he had been raised in a peaceful and loving home. To hear distress in his mother's voice made Harry antsy._

_'You can't expect me to just leave these people behind. It is my job to serve and protect!' his dad snapped back._

_'We have a son, James! He's only twelve years old, we can leave, get a job somewhere safe where the virus has not spread yet...'_

_It fell silent, then. Harry retreated to his desk and switched radio stations, picking up his toys again though he was no longer interested. Leave? Then he wouldn't see Ron anymore... Were they in danger?_

_Was Neville right?_

* * *

How sweet life had been back then... Warm meals every night, the greatest burden Harry had to carry had been keeping his grades up. His childhood had been a great one and he would forever long to regain even the smallest piece of that domestic life.

Yes, Harry remembered that night. As he drifted he remembered the calm before the storm. He remembered the silence that had fallen after his mother's exclamation and how busy his parents had been the days after that. Carrying canned goods to the car and packing clothes away, busy making phone calls and silence at the dinner table. They had kept Harry away from school and they'd stayed home from work as well. Even Harry had known something bad was hanging over their heads at that age - it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. His mom didn't smile as much and his father had his hands too full to indulge Harry with a game of soccer in their backyard.

His parents, in the final days of their lives, hadn't even bothered opening the mail.

Harry shifted and rested his forehead against the car window. The seatbelt dug uncomfortably into his throat and a worried frown settled on his face.

Harry had just been going upstairs to get one of his favorite books when it had happened.

* * *

  _Harry was positively pouting as he stuffed his small backpack full with his favorite toys._

_Family vacations were always a happy thing but Harry sensed something urgent in his parents' actions. It made him sad to think that his dad didn't even have the time to play games with him anymore - his mom hadn't asked about Harry's homework once. They were simply too busy for them and for the first time in his life Harry felt lonely and almost abandoned._

_He glanced over his bedroom. His mom had told him to only bring what he absolutely wouldn't want to go without and he had a strange feeling about this - like he would never return to his bedroom ever again. His fingers hovered over his favorite book, filled with pictures of famous athletes. One day he wanted to be one of them and grace the pages of history books. People would whisper about his achievements in awe... Harry wanted nothing more than to make an unforgettable impression on the world._

_Make a change._

_He decided to take the book with him and he hugged it to his chest as he went downstairs with an extra bounce in his step. He reassured both his parents he got what he needed and wanted and went into the car, buckling his seatbelt and flipping through his book. The radio had stopped playing music a few days ago. The news was on all the time and Harry found it rather boring but he didn't want to bother his parents by asking them to just put a cd into the car radio._

_'We love you very much, Harry,' his mom suddenly said urgently. They drove out of their street and Harry looked over his shoulder to see his parental home grow smaller and smaller already. People were running around in the street, cars were rushing by. The sun was setting and Harry met his father's eyes when James looked into the rearview mirror. 'You know that, don't you?'_

_'We're never going home again, are we?' Harry asked softly. Lily opened her mouth to answer it, but Harry shrugged. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. He understood that his parents were doing their best. 'I love you too, mom. You too dad.'_

_His father didn't return Harry's smile and as they headed towards the city to access the highway there were more people running on the road, screams outside their car. It was as though everyone was participating in a mad game of tag. Harry watched a man tackle a woman to the ground and then more jumped on top of her. She cried out for help and then her voice died down._

_The sound of car alarms pierced the air, along with the sirens of fire trucks and police vehicles. He quickly looked back down to his book and told himself not to look outside anymore as he felt fear growing inside of him._

_This was what his parents were taking him away from. Mindless violence and cruelty._

_There was a tense silence in the car. His father was focused purely on what was ahead of him and he narrowly avoided hitting a woman on the road. They were almost on the highway._

_Then, his mom gasped._

_'James-!'_

_Another car hit theirs from his father's side and Harry cried out - his mom's head slammed into the dashboard and his father was crushed in between the debris of their car. His half of the car was completely destroyed and Harry screamed as he watched his father's fingers twitch on the steering wheel. Final signs of life were seeping out of him._

_Blood was oozing from his mother's forehead, even a brighter shade of red than her hair. She turned her head and blinked owlishly a few times, struggling to take in their surroundings as though she was disorientated. Then she glanced at James (of what was left of him) and sobbed. Harry stared in shock and pain crept through his neck._

_His dad was dead._

_'Climb out, climb out! Come on baby!' His mom urged him. She was crying as she rolled down her window and she was instantly torn out by greedy hands - teeth digging into her throat as she screamed at her son to climb out and run. He watched in horror as his mother struggled to get free and kept quiet when those hands reached for him. When they retracted Harry stayed still for a very long time. It could have been hours, maybe only minutes. The entire vehicle smelt of blood and death and he looked at his father's hands one more time before he finally c_ _limbed out with tears staining his cheeks, instantly tripping over his unlaced sneakers and kicking them off._

_The world around him was a mess. Everything was burning and everyone was screaming - debris digging into his feet and piercing his socks. He sobbed as he ran listlessly with no one to help him. His mom and dad had just been killed and he was alone in the world._

_A few men were looking at him with bloodied hands and faces. Harry wanted to walk to them, beg them for help but something in their expression terrified Harry so much he continued running. It had been the best choice he would make that evening._

_Eventually Harry gained the attention of other men and they started running after him like mad dogs, grunting and groaning dangerously. He could run for a while, soccer had gained him some experience in that field but their legs were longer and their endurance appeared endless. His legs felt like jelly already and the only thing that kept him going was adrenaline._

_He was going to die. He knew it._

_The pain in his feet and neck was unbearable and the wind bit into his face. He glanced behind himself to see them closing up on him. There were three of them with torn clothes, oozing wounds and greedy mouths._

_Harry told himself he must be having a nightmare. He should wake up now. Why wasn't he waking up?_

_He ran into a wall of a man and toppled over, a set of enraged eyes instantly aimed at him. They were both on the ground - the man had been heading into his direction for whatever reason._   _When Harr_ _y saw some signs of humanity he crawled onto the man, clinging onto him for dear life to find some safety. Everything was sort of a blur and he never would have embarrassed himself had all these horrible things not just happened to him. All Harry knew was that this stranger was somehow human, not a monster, and Harry would hold on to him for dear life._

_Then, the tall man he had run into lifted a gun and shot three times over Harry's shoulder. Harry's ears run and he buried his face into the man's neck, thanking him, clinging onto him for dear life, trying to tell the stranger about how Harry's mom and dad had just died and those men were trying to hurt him too. He was so scared. He didn't want to die like this._

_'Quit your blithering and come with me, child,' the man told him simply._

_Harry just nodded stupidly, incapable of releasing the man's sleeve as he struggled to keep up with his quick strides. He was pushed into a car and cried the entire way._

* * *

As the memories resurfaced Harry slowly drifted back into awareness and blinked his eyes back open, feeling disorientated the way he always did after a nap but knowing he couldn't go back to sleep now that his mind was filled with these thoughts.

It had been Tom who saved him.

They'd driven all night, those years ago - Harry had eventually cried himself to sleep and during their first morning together Tom carefully picked the glass from Harry's tiny feet without a word. He had not once attempted to comfort Harry, ask him about his parents, and in return Harry had just kept to quietly crying to himself until he had no more tears to shed.

Peculiar man, Tom was. He never said much and he didn't appear to be the type to particularly care for anyone but himself. To this day Harry still didn't understand why Tom had bothered with him.

Maybe he was an orphan just like Harry, and just wanted some company.

Harry was in his late teens now and had never grown quite as tall as Tom. He had given up hope on doing so a long time ago. Tom's shoulders had grown broader as the years had passed with all the lifting he did and Harry had learned that Tom had been 28 when he had found Harry. Harry didn't know why Tom knew how to work a gun, but he had been taught not to ask too many questions. Tom wouldn't reply to them anyway.

Harry had learned how to handle a gun as well, knew exactly where to shoot the zombies (' _If you can't get a good aim at their heads shoot them in the kneecaps first, that way they won't move as fast and you'll have more time to get closer without getting hurt_.'), knew what places to avoid, knew what places to try and find food…

When he dreamt, he dreamt of asphalt underneath his bare feet, his mother's screams ringing in his ears. Tom often had to shake him to wake him and press a hand against Harry's mouth to stifle his screams – he had more than once attracted danger because of it.

But Tom still didn't get rid of him.

Tom's brilliant blue eyes were currently hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, a frown was set on his attractive face. His hair was usually parted, but now with the hot weather the soft curly strands had become messy and they framed his face. He had recently cut it to keep it from getting into his eyes.

Tom was wearing a pair of cargo pants, knives and other small weapons hidden in the many pockets he had. There were guns strapped to his thighs and ammunition was in their trunk. The tank top he was wearing was a bit tight on him and bruises were littered over his pale skin. Tom too was scarred, sunburn on his neck, his shoulders, spreading over his back.

Functionality over fashion, Harry supposed. He knew if this had been other times Tom wouldn't have been caught dead in a pair of cargo pants.

Tom still looked incredibly handsome to Harry.

There were bodies rotting on the asphalt road along several deserted cars but Harry tried not to focus on it too much. Instead he worried for when it would be winter, again – the infected could stand the cold far better than the heat. The nights were hard enough to survive when they couldn't get through a city in one day because of blockages on the road and the like, but during the winters…

Harry closed his eyes and slumped into his seat, yawning. They hadn't had much sleep last night either. A couple of infec- ah, who was he kidding, a couple of  _zombies_ had been slamming up against their car, trying to open it like a can of sardines. It had ultimately resulted into a couple of crushed zombies on the dirt road and a very satisfied Tom behind the steering wheel.

'Tired?' Tom asked and Harry hummed, sighing when Tom's hand smoothed Harry's hair behind his ear.

But above all, something else was bothering the teen.

He supposed it was very easy for Tom to forget that Harry was only sixteen years old, even if they did celebrate his birthdays because Harry insisted on doing so. Harry would always struggle to keep up with Tom, make him proud and prove him Harry was useful and worthy of keeping around. Sometimes Harry himself forgot he was a child by old society's standards as well with all the things he had been through.

But sometimes it showed in the things he worried about - things regular teens always worried about. 

Such as who was Harry really, and what was his place in this world? College or any sort of education at that was not something Harry had to think about anymore but he'd like to think he could still contribute something. Sometimes, when Tom was asleep and it was Harry's turn to keep watch, he wondered what the point in all of this was. They were bound to die anyway, weren't they? No matter how many zombies he killed and how much hate he felt toward them, it didn't bring his parents back. It didn't change the world. It didn't solve anything.

Tom's hand pulled away from where it had been lingering on Harry's face, curling around the steering wheel again.

Harry has seen and done things that should qualify him as an adult (because killing zombies counted more than smoking or drinking alcohol, right?) but he still felt like such a stupid  _child_. He always felt like he wasn't doing enough, like he wasn't doing  _something_. Also, he may very well be having an identity crisis while he was at it.

Harry thought he was in love with Tom.

Harry never really had anyone explain to him what it meant to be in love with someone, so he couldn't be too sure, but it must be love when he just felt this stupid need to stare at Tom constantly, right? When he felt this happy when Tom touched him it couldn't  _just_ be affection, could it? It was weird because girls were supposed to like boys… Yet Harry was really, really sure he wasn't a girl and he was really sure Tom wasn't one either, so it was just… He didn't understand. It were times like these where he just missed his mom so much. His mom would've understood. She would've known why Harry would fall for a man.

It was just difficult.

It was difficult and strange because his body just had this weird reaction sometimes, where his manhood would suddenly ache and feel hard between his legs. He had never told Tom because he didn't know if it was normal or not and it usually just went away on its own accord anyway.

Tom sighed and Harry opened his eyes again to look at him.

'What is it?' he asked and he quickly glanced out of the window in worry. There seemed to be nothing outside that could possibly cause that look on Tom's face. Tom glanced at him and Harry's face was reflected in his sunglasses.

'We need to talk,' Tom decided and he glanced in his rearview mirror. The bodies were now growing sparse and they were getting further away from larger populated areas. Harry felt dread, somehow. Tom couldn't possibly know about  _that_ right?

'We do?' Harry asked and Tom pulled over. He took off his sunglasses and ran a hand through his hair. 'About what?'

And even if he knew that Tom wouldn't leave him when all they had were each other and when they were each other's protectors it didn't take away that fear of being left on his own. He wouldn't survive on his own – Harry was too reckless and didn't think things through as well as Tom would.

'We have been traveling for four years,' Tom started and Harry nodded slowly. Tom stared at him for a bit longer as if he was trying to look into Harry's soul, before he leaned back in his seat. 'I think we ought to find somewhere safe and remain there for a while.'

Harry blinked in mild surprise. 'Are you serious? But you always said that settling down somewhere could be dangerous because  _they_  are always on the move, and that we have to keep on the roads as well for supplies and -'

'I know what I said,' Tom interrupted him and when he saw the look on Harry's face his own face relaxed somewhat and he ran another hand through his hair. 'I  _know_ ,' he repeated, his voice now a bit gentler. A silence fell upon them and Harry just stared at Tom for a short while. His eyes traced his high cheekbones, those small beads of perspiration that had gathered on his smooth forehead, his eyebrows, down his straight nose to his pale lips…

'We can't always be on the road,' Tom reminded him, and his voice made Harry snap up from his thoughts. Tom rested his head against the his seat and his pale neck was stretched out completely, his adam's apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed and spoke again. 'We are dependent of one another, for as much as I'd dread to admit it, considering you never use your head and I am not quite as creative as you are. The chance of one of us dying is…  _There_ , if we keep taking risks like this.'

They had never really set up a plan as to where they wanted to go, simply because they would just go wherever they thought they could find food and maybe shelter. There had never been a goal besides surviving another day, and every day came with new risks… Sometimes the places they ended up in looked like ghost towns, and sometimes they just walked straight into the home of countless zombies. With the years having passed, zombies no longer stuck around in the cities. There was nothing left to eat for them, there, and they traveled as well.

There was no predicting the undead anymore.

When Tom spoke of creativity, he was referring to the makeshift traps Harry created that had more than once saved their lives. The fact that Harry didn't come up with plans often and just rather  _did_ things was something they could use to their advantage. Harry made trip wires, for example, and fastened bottles and bottle caps to them. They'd clink together when the wire was stepped upon, making a sound loud enough to wake them when they had been asleep or bathing so they knew that something was coming.

Two months ago Tom and Harry had ran out of bullets. They had sought solace in an old abandoned manor but zombies had gathered on their lawn - too many to fight by hand. Harry had ran to the nursery, cut open his hand and soaked the teddy bears with his own blood. He had tossed them out of the window and while the zombies had been busy fighting each other and ripping the teddy bears apart, Tom and Harry took their chance to escape.

Harry had a talent for coming up with quick getaways. That was the difference between him and his companion - Tom preferred to keep everything in stock and prepare for the worst beforehand, plan everything ahead. Harry didn't think - he just reacted.

'But why do you think now wouldn't be as dangerous?' Harry asked softly, finally. The thought of being capable of living somewhere, growing old… He had forced those kinds of desires out of his head a long time ago. This simply wasn't the kind of world where that was possible anymore and it already shocked Harry enough that they had managed to get this far, for so long.

'It's still as dangerous as it used to be,' Tom replied calmly, 'it just depends on the location we choose to stay at, and I'm not saying we should stay there for the rest of our lives. But we could stay there for a year, and then move forward again.'

'There…? That almost sounds like you already have a place in mind,' Harry murmured. Tom's head turned to him, and Harry instantly realized that Tom did. He had this look in his eyes that he always had when he had come up with something, and Harry found that he liked it. Tom used to say nothing at all and he wouldn't discuss a thing with Harry before making decisions, but now that Harry was slowly growing up Tom was starting to see him as more than just someone that came along him – someone to talk to every now and then.

Harry was Tom's friend, now. Not just a little boy following him around.

'Do you remember that farm we stayed last year?'

Harry slowly nodded. Of course he did.

When they had been there it had been like everything had been safe and normal again for a short while. It had been an incredibly long drive and they had stumbled upon it by accident, but staying there… it had been like a dream.

It had been late September when they had arrived there, and Harry still clearly remembered the apple tree standing right next to the house. Everything had been deserted – the barns, the house… The farm had been completely isolated from the outside world and although Harry couldn't understand how someone could've lived there willingly when things had still been normal, he hadn't complained once whilst staying there.

The house had smelt of death when they came there. The owners of the property had killed themselves. There had been a body of a man in the bathtub upstairs; his wrists had been slit but the blood had been drained from the tub, probably along with the bathwater. A woman with a broken glass in her hands had been rotting on the floor in the living room. They had rolled their bodies up into carpets and burnt them. The sight and smell had been horrendous, but… There had been no zombies at all when Tom and Harry did their final rounds.

They hadn't seen one all winter. The traps Harry had set up had gone off once, but it had been a squirrel.

Harry grinned and Tom smirked back at him.

'Is that a yes?' Tom asked and Harry nodded at him. Yes, he would love to go back to that place. It had been Tom that had said they should leave, and even if he had always been right and he did have a few good reasons as to why they should go, Harry had still been reluctant to leave that place. Everything they needed had been there – the old well constantly filled up with rainwater, there had been clean clothes they shared, plants…

'At this moment I think I'd be willing to kill for an apple,' Harry said and he smiled when Tom snorted in amusement. They'd been living on fish and meat from the small animals they caught for too long. Oh, the things Harry would do for a glass of milk...

'Sometimes I wonder why I still put up with you,' Tom said though his words held no bite. He slid his sunglasses back onto his nose and held out his hand. 'Hand me the map, will you?'


	2. Step Away From The Window

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 2

_**'Step Away From The Window'** _

'Did you set up the traps?'

'Yes.'

'Did you check?'

'Twice.'

Tom's eyes lingered on Harry's face as if he tried to seek reason for Harry to lie. Tom would have much preferred to set up the traps himself had he not been busied with other tasks already, and Harry knew that it was only a matter of minutes before Tom would double-check Harry's work anyway.

Trust, Harry had learned a long time ago, was something Tom did not give freely. For good reason he supposed. Nowadays other humans would either try to have them for lunch or double-cross them, and neither was on top of Harry's wishlist.

'You know, doing a good job is kind of important to me too considering the fact that I don't want to die yet,' Harry then added. Tom stared at him for a bit longer, surely just to make Harry uncomfortable, and then he released a soft breath and nodded. Harry dropped the duffel bag he had been carrying and bent down, pulling out a clean shirt for Tom to wear and holding it out for him.

By now Tom's suspicion didn't offend or confuse Harry anymore. It was in Tom's nature to only believe the job was well done if he did it himself - still it never failed to make Harry uneasy about his own capabilities. He fought the need to check the traps for a third time just to make sure he had indeed done everything the proper way.

Tom took the garment without a word and he heard the heavy thud of Tom's gun dropping the ground, followed by the rest of the small collection of weapons Tom always had on his person. Harry felt flustered and looked away, giving Tom the time to wash himself in peace.

Their car was waiting for them not too far away on a dirt road. They had traveled to this clearing by foot - Tom had guided them to a lake and Harry delighted in the idea he could go swimming. They had already checked if everything was safe and they hadn't found any zombies near, so Tom had deemed it an alright place to set up camp for the night.

'I'm just gonna, uh, be there, getting the water ready,' Harry pointed to a tree and Tom hummed, carelessly lifting up his shirt and taking it off. Harry didn't have to look to know Tom was scrubbing the fabric, ridding it from the sweat and dirt clinging to it. Tom had this routine whenever he started washing himself, in which he'd take off one piece of clothing off a time and take his time cleaning it before he would start cleaning himself. To give the articles of clothing time to dry, Harry assumed.

Harry busied himself making a fire with twigs and one of their lighters. Tom had taught him that if he wasn't certain water was safe to drink he'd have to boil it to kill all bacteria first.

Harry was careful not to look at Tom even if he secretly so desperately wanted to, and he stumbled over a tree branch when he went to fill his pan. Water sloshed out over his feet and the grass glistened with it.

He heard the sound of water splashing halt, and Harry sheepishly smiled over his shoulder to comfort the other man.

'Sorry,' he said dryly, flushing when he took in Tom's state of undress. There was no shame in Tom's expression, only mild amusement to Harry's relief. He quickly went back to his task and stared at the water as he waited for it to boil.

God, this was just so  _weird_.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he heard the clinking noise of Tom's knives and his heavy footsteps. Tom's hair was dripping wet but it would dry soon enough. Harry stubbornly kept his attention focused on the pan he was holding, feeling the hot fire close to his skin. Tom sat down next to him and he could feel Tom's eyes on him.

Tom did that often. Stare at him, that is – sometimes Harry thought that Tom knew about what Harry was hiding from him. When the water was finally boiling Harry pulled it away from the fire and set it out to cool so it wouldn't melt their plastic water bottles. He twisted the caps off the bottles and waited for the steam to stop coming from the pan. Then, with Tom's assistance, he slowly poured the water into each one of them until the pan was empty.

It was a simple task but Harry was more than happy to have something to do with his hands.

'That just reminded me,' Tom started suddenly, startling Harry as the teen had been about to refill the pan, 'your birthday is coming up soon.'

'It is?' Harry asked in honest surprise. He hadn't even thought much about his birthday and he had secretly already thought Tom had forgotten all about it. Tom hummed in reply and took the pan from Harry, a small indication that Harry could go if he wanted to. Harry's mouth felt even dryer than before when his eyes trailed over Tom's body.

He just couldn't help himself. With all that they had gone through together Tom's body had grown more fit and it showed. His stomach was more defined, the beginnings of abs showing, his arms and calves nicely shaped.

Harry realized he really,  _really_ wanted to touch Tom.

What was this feeling in his chest?

'Yes,' Tom confirmed. 'Do you have any idea what you'd like to have?'

Harry finally tore his eyes off Tom's body, and he bit his lip in thought. He  _had_ wanted something for a very long time, and it wouldn't be as dangerous to obtain as the pair of sneakers Tom had gotten him last year. What Harry wanted couldn't be stolen. Or, he supposed it could – but he wanted it given to him willingly.

He wanted to have his first kiss. With Tom.

Ofcourse he couldn't say such thing out loud. Tom had never even done as much as hug Harry – just the occasional pat on his back and hand sliding in his when they had to run and Tom needed to keep him close.

'No, nothing,' Harry murmured. Tom stopped from where he had been reaching for another empty bottle and looked at him. Harry was almost too aware of how droplets ran down his pale skin.

'Nothing?' Tom parroted. He frowned and Harry could just stare. He was confused as to how he was just so attracted to Tom - how he longed for Tom and himself to be like his parents had been when things had been normal. He had vague memories of his father fiddling with his tie while Harry's mother had poured him a cup of coffee, playfully smiling and tying his tie for him. They had exchanged a kiss and James Potter had ruffled Harry's hair before heading off to work. It were simple things, but they had been  _normal_  for his parents.

Harry knew he couldn't ask for that. Knew Tom couldn't play God and fix the world. But maybe Tom could give him that simplicity. That comfort, that –

No. Tom couldn't – he wouldn't. Boys weren't supposed to like each other, and neither were men. Because that was what Harry would be, in exactly one year. He'd be 18 and then he'd be a man by the old standards of the world. Maybe if Harry had been a girl, or if Tom had been one. Maybe then…

'What's wrong?' Tom asked and Harry twitched. Tom calmly rested his hand on top of Harry's. His skin felt damp and cold on top of Harry's. 'You suddenly look awfully sad. Don't you look forward to your birthday?'

He couldn't help his eyes from flicking to Tom's lips, fearing Tom had noticed when Harry looked him back in the eye. Birthdays and holidays were something Harry honored and Tom knew this. Harry insisted on celebrating their birthdays and at least Christmas every year. The celebrations made him feel normal and happy.

He struggled to find words.

'I was just – I was thinking that… it's, I'm turning 18 next year. An adult.'

It was like he wanted to convince Tom of something. Maybe that he'd be a man like Tom was? Because Harry knew, even Tom knew, that Harry had grown to look up to him. He had learned so much from Tom and being an adult just brought him that one step closer to being like Tom.

Harry smiled nervously and averted his eyes, feeling a flush creep up on his neck. No matter what he did, no matter how many times he helped Tom out or even saved him, he still felt like such a child.

'Maybe… maybe we should stop celebrating birthdays. My birthday, of course-' Harry added hurriedly, '- we should still celebrate yours and Christmas. They're important and…' Harry released an irritated huff because Tom's eyebrow was rising now and he could feel Tom thought he didn't make any sense.

'Harry, just tell me what you want,' Tom said with an amused tone in his voice. Harry opened his mouth to deny him, but closed his mouth again when he heard a scream.

Tom's head whipped around and he pulled out his gun, Harry pulling out a knife. Tom got up wordlessly and started running into the woods and Harry followed him, abandoning the bottles and the pan without second thought. He saw a flash of white and Tom held out his arm and shot it – it had been a woman and she crumpled to the floor with another loud wail.

Harry nearly knocked Tom over when the tall man abruptly stopped running, watching as two cloaked men came close as well. They hadn't seen Tom and Harry and Harry's eyes widened when they laughed. The woman had been no zombie at all – she was crying and whimpering and pleading for help. The men crouched over her and Harry instinctively stepped forwards when they started tugging at her clothes.

They were undressing her. Why were they undressing her?

Harry stared in shock as the woman kicked and flailed, begging for them to leave her be. Her white dress was stained with blood and they bared her chest, palming her breasts hungrily.

Harry didn't understand a single thing of what he was witnessing.

Tom snarled and gripped Harry's knife out of his hands, throwing it at them. It hit one of the men in the back of his head and he fell to the ground, dead. His partner had finally spotted Tom and Harry and he gasped, already getting up and trying to run.

Tom aimed his gun at him and shot him right in the shoulder.

Harry watched in shock when Tom trudged over at him. He kicked the man over to rest on his back and Harry heard him gurgle something. Tom ignored him, released a frustrated growl-like noise and kicked him in the stomach. The gurgling abruptly stopped when Tom shot him in the head. Blood spattered up and Harry swallowed thickly, his heart hammering in his chest and his sides burning but not really aware of it.

He could just watch Tom and the drops of blood that had spattered into his handsome face, which was twisted in a look of utmost rage.

Tom then turned and walked to the first man, completely ignoring the woman who was whimpering and trying to crawl away from him. He stomped his foot down between the dead man's shoulders and yanked Harry's knife out of his head with ease. He didn't seem to care much about what he had just done to them. The knife was dripping blood when he handed it back to Harry. Harry stared up at him, noting the complete lack of eye contact.

Tom walked past him, probably heading to the lake to clean himself off the blood he had made them spill.  
  
Tom's hands were shaking.

Harry dropped the knife without much thought and ran to the woman. Her arm was bleeding and her brown hair was a tangled mess, bruises and cuts all over her face. She screamed out again when he crouched down to her to try to help her.

'It's okay, it's fine - I'm just here to help you!' Harry said, her crying and squirming making him nervous, like he had been the one to do her wrong. She didn't seem to care much for what he had to say and she just kept trying to get away. She was hysterical.

Harry tried his best to pull up her dress for her to offer her some modesty and he tried not to ponder at how strange breasts looked to him. She took it as him assaulting her too and she slammed her fists on his chest.

'Make her shut up before I will!' Tom snapped. Harry's head whirled around to look at him. Tom's usual calm eyes were livid, and it sent unpleasant shivers down his spine so Harry turned back to the woman again and tried to hush her.

Tom had never shown kindness to anyone besides Harry. It was like he hated the world and all of humanity.

Harry took a shaky breath and tried to turn her around again.

'Please! Leave me alone!' she yelled and Harry's hands trembled. He had gotten so used to all the killing and bloodshed these past years that it was easy to look past that, but victims… They always got to Harry. He gripped her shoulders, trying to pull her up and he cried out in pain when she reached up and slapped him in the face, her nails digging into his sensitive skin and dragging down. She just kept struggling and Harry yelped when a loud bang was somewhere near him, making his ears ring.

She stopped moving altogether and Harry looked up to see Tom standing over them with a gun in his hands, her body still gathered in Harry's arms. Her lifeless brown eyes were aimed at the sky as she went limp.

'Tom-' Harry started, his hands still trembling as he felt himself growing angry and his face now throbbing where she had slapped it, 'Tom, you just-'

'Get up, clean yourself and go straight to the car,' Tom demanded, 'that harlot attracted enough attention with her wailing and I am not going to wait around for the infected to come for us.'

He turned around and Harry just sat there, staring at her. Tom had never killed an actual innocent person in front of Harry before and this frightened him, but most of all – he was angry. He was angry because Tom had been unreasonable and they could have helped her, she had just been scared –

'Now, Harry!'

Harry stumbled a bit as he rose to his feet, pointedly not looking Tom in the eye. The scent of blood was all around him and the sight of all of the bodies made Harry feel sick. His hands were completely coated in slick blood and he felt some dribble down his cheek as well. Tom watched him as he quickly washed himself clean and took off his shirt, gathering their things before they left. He sat in the car and wordlessly put on the shirt Tom handed to him.

They started driving, but Harry didn't say a word to Tom.

All he could think of was that that woman had been abused and that those men had wanted to take off her clothes. Tom had brutally killed all three of them like they had never been anyone's kids, lovers, friends.

And that, in return, made Harry wonder if Tom ever had felt the need to kill Harry just like that.

* * *

Harry didn't sleep well that night.

They had set up traps around the car, barbed wire on the car and bear traps next to the car doors. Their car seats were pushed backwards so they could rest side by side, like they usually did when they were on the road. They hadn't spoken a word to one another. Tom did not seem to feel the need to do so and Harry was too angry to form words.

He just didn't understand.

He didn't understand why Tom had to kill her too. Harry could've understood if Tom had simply said that he hadn't wanted to drag her with them, but they could've helped her. They could've dropped her off somewhere safe.

Also, it had been so long since Harry had seen actual people other than Tom and it just reminded him of how fragile their lives were. Harry wondered, if other people were to find Tom and Harry – would they murder the both of them just as brutally? Harry hadn't felt much pity for the men because they had been attacking her, but... Just how much had they done to her? She had seemed hysterical and had barely been capable of forming words.

'Go to sleep,' Tom murmured, catching Harry by surprise. He turned his head to see Tom staring at him.

Harry wanted to nod like he usually did, but this night he didn't. This night, he just averted his eyes back to where he had been staring at nothing in particular. Tom's hand reached out and Harry slapped it away, rolling onto his side and turning his back to Tom.

Sometimes Harry thought Tom had been a murderer before all of this started.

It would explain it all. Why he knew how to handle weapons, why he knew how to survive in this world… Why this all just never had seemed to get to him, emotionally. Tom was angry most of the time, yes, but other than that it he just acted like the world had always been like this or like he had always been like this – on the road for any possible threats, killing whomever got into his way.

Tom was just so destructive. Harry didn't understand, but this part of Tom… it was ugly, and vile. Cruel in its own overbearing existence and Harry didn't know how to handle it. It had been a while since Tom had acted the way he had today, and Harry had been so caught up in his other conflicted feelings that he hadn't really thought of it before.

But he was thinking of it now.

'Don't touch me,' Harry murmured. He was tired, but too tired to go to sleep. It were times like these in which he just wished he had a place he could go to – a place to be alone. Tom released a long sigh and he felt Tom roll over as well. He could feel Tom's eyes boring into the back of his head.

'You're being unreasonable -'

'Why did I survive, Tom?' Harry asked softly. Tom instantly stopped talking, and Harry just stared at the door. 'Why didn't you let me die?'

Harry felt cheated. Tom still didn't trust him enough and acted like they weren't equals even though Harry so desperately wanted them to be.

He just wanted them to be like his parents had been.

Tom sighed again.

'It's in the past,' he murmured. 'It's not important.'

'It is in the past,' Harry agreed softly, simply. He sucked on his bottom lip. 'But it's important to me.'  
  
Tom's hand brushed over his shoulder, and Harry turned around so he could see Tom again.

'They were members of the Brotherhood, Harry,' he said, 'you know it too. You saw the sign on their backs.'  
  
Harry had. There was no point in denying that when it had been painted in thick, red lines on their backs. That triangle sign, with the circle and the long straight line in the middle.

'But that woman -'

'She only would've slowed us down.'  
  
Harry opened and closed his mouth. He knew that Tom was right, in a way, but still…

'We could've helped her,' he murmured. He licked his dry lips and frowned. 'There was no reason for you to just kill her. She could've been someone's-'

'No, you're right,' Tom suddenly snapped and Harry felt himself tense up, 'there was no reason for me to just make a decision that could've saved our lives in the end. Who knew how close the infected were? Who knew where the other members of the Brotherhood were? If she had continued screaming like that she would've killed us all.'

Tom sat up and Harry followed the motion, feeling confused when Tom grabbed his gun and shoved it into his waistband.

'Where are you going?' he asked. Tom's eyes shone in the darkness.

'I'm going to do my rounds,' he snapped. Harry gripped his wrist, but Tom just pushed him away.

'Tom, it's still dark, you're gonna get yourself-'

'Killed? I thought that that was what you wanted.'

It was a low blow, they both knew it, but Harry could only stare helplessly when Tom got out of the car. Harry watched him walk until he disappeared in the distance.


	3. Go Back To Sleep

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 3

_**'Go Back To Sleep'** _

Tom didn't return until late afternoon the following day, and when he did he was carrying two dead rabbits.

Harry instantly shot up from where he had been waiting by the car, feeling relieved at seeing Tom again. His smile died on his face, however, when Tom did nothing but drop the rabbits near his feet and reached into the trunk without saying a word to him.

Harry couldn't help the disappointment flaring up in his chest. His shoulders sagged again in resignation.

He knew better than anyone else that Tom could fend for himself, but there just had been these mental images of Tom being surrounded by more zombies than he could handle, him being attacked by members of the Brotherhood… Or Tom simply leaving Harry here to rot. For all the horrors he had witnessed in this world, Harry had been only terrified of one thing and that was the notion of being left all alone in this horrible world.

Harry wanted to speak but with the way Tom was acting he wasn't sure if it would be smart to say anything at all so Harry just settled for making a fire when Tom handed him the lighter. Tom started skinning the rabbits.

When they started eating Harry realized he'd been starving. He tried his best to eat slowly because the meat was still hot and it wasn't much – though admittedly more than they've had these past days – but even if the meat was bland and not that tasty, he couldn't help himself. He had never been too good at killing rabbits, and their meat was better than that of the pigeons Harry managed to shoot out of the sky every now and then.

He blinked when Tom dumped his portion onto Harry's broken plate.

'Tom?' he asked softly. Tom shrugged.

'I'm not hungry anymore.'

Bullshit. They hadn't eaten anything in a day, it wasn't possible for Tom to not be hungry. Harry opened his mouth to protest but the irritated glint in Tom's eyes made him sigh. Harry's stomach twinged painfully and he finally started eating again, feeling awkward now that Tom's eyes were on him.

'Did it take you long to find these?' Harry asked when he was done. Tom shrugged again.

'No,' he simply replied, obviously not in the mood to talk. Harry nodded and sighed, staring into the fire and giving up on the conversation he had attempted to start. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them; if Tom wanted to be left alone, he would be. It didn't keep Harry from feeling frustrated though. Sometimes he thought that if he didn't give Tom his desired peace and quiet, Tom would become even more aggressive.

Just when he thought he had been starting to figure Tom out Tom would just do something that would completely throw him off. Harry didn't know what to do to get closer to Tom. All he could do was remain productive and follow Tom's lead. The fact that Tom hadn't answered most of his questions last night hadn't been too much of a surprise. Harry had a lot of questions that probably never would be answered. Tom wouldn't have the answers for them anyway.

All Harry knew for sure was that they lived by Tom's rules, or died. Or worse – they died and came back.

Harry played a bit with a bone before he sighed and got up, getting ready to clean up so they could start moving again.

But then one of their traps went off.

Harry froze and Tom tensed up, his hand reaching out and curling around Harry's wrist to keep him near. Harry's eyes flicked from his wrist back to their surroundings, hearing a dull thud, another clinking noise and a guttural noise. He swallowed thickly and Tom glanced up at him, reaching a silent agreement.

_You get our things, I'll take care of it._

And Harry was willing to do just that. He had actually already been walking to the back of the car.

'…Tom,' he started, stepping back. He reached for this gun.

'Not now, Harry,' Tom snapped at him. He moved backwards, his throat feeling dry.

'Tom -' his chest just filled with dread and his back connected with Tom's side, reaching backwards to grip Tom's hand.

' _What_?' Tom hissed. His head turned finally and the sight made his eyes widen rather comically. Had it been a better situation Harry probably would have poked some fun at it.

It was more than one zombie. Tom and Harry were completely surrounded – the undead just kept gathering around them, their lifeless eyes fixated on them. Harry swallowed thickly while his nails dug into Tom's skin. For a moment the undead just stared, as if they wanted to figure out if Harry and Tom were edible or not. There were about six of them, covered in blood and clothes torn. One of them missed an eyeball, the other missed a hand.

'Damn.'

Harry felt Tom squeeze his hand in reply.

One of the zombies stepped forward, but Harry didn't move just yet. He didn't wait for Tom's orders because there never was any predicting in what they'd do.

Another one stepped forward now, as well, and Harry's grip tightened on his gun. Tom murmured something he couldn't quite comprehend; there was too much blood rushing through his ears, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt alive, and once the fear ebbed down he realized he just had this need to make them die.

One made a grunt-like noise.

Harry grinned.

The only times Harry could let go of all the stress he's been experiencing was when he could fight for his life. Harry just couldn't explain it any further other than that it made him feel satisfied; as if he was avenging all the people these creatures have killed.

After the initial fear ebbed down, Harry's mind worked quickly.

'Take the cyclops, big foot and the stripper,' Harry murmured, releasing Tom's hand and referring to the one eyed zombie, the tall one who didn't wear any shoes and the woman whose dress was completely torn and didn't keep her body from getting exposed.

Harry would later on wonder if it was weird that he hadn't felt a damn thing at seeing a woman almost naked for the second time in his life.

Tom hummed and then the one handed zombie lunged forward.

Tom moved amazingly fast – he was just a blur in the corner of Harry's eyes. Harry couldn't focus too much on it and instead just moved forward as well, jumping and aiming a kick at its chest. It fell over and Harry gripped his gun from his waistband and shot it in the mouth, and then in its forehead. He barely had time to avoid getting bitten by the female zombie, whose screech seemed to echo through the woods.

It wasn't just adrenaline that went through Harry at times like these.

It was sheer arousal that went through him during the aftermath as well. Like he had gotten rid of some of his frustration but not all of it. Not by a long shot.

Tom practically cackled after a particular loud bang and Harry heard a couple of bangs after the first one – Tom was fucking around. He always enjoyed making them suffer, and sometimes Harry thought that Tom had been created for the sole purpose of destruction.

Sometimes it seemed to be all that Tom was capable of.

And the worst was that that was exactly what drew Harry into him.

Harry gripped her wrist and it snapped – she screamed again, drawing the attention of the other zombies. Harry ducked his head just in time before a shower of blood poured down on him. One of the zombies had just been about to bite him and had bitten her instead.

Tom shot the both of them in the head and Harry looked at him, sharing a look of just  _something_ before Tom went back to the remaining two zombies.

Wait –  _two_?

Harry's eyebrows knitted together and he yelped in shock when he felt breath on his neck, and he started running without giving it too much thought. He could hear footsteps right behind him, feel the wind in his hair…

He didn't have to look to know the big guy, the one that he had told Tom to kill, was coming after him. He cursed softly.

That was the thing with Tom.

When he got excited, he forgot all about Harry. For Tom, the world solely existed out of him, the ones he was fighting and the life he was protecting. This time, it didn't happen to be Harry's. Harry's gun dropped but he didn't have the time to turn around, and his heart was fluttering in his chest.

He wasn't going to die. He refused to be someone else's dinner.

He hadn't kissed Tom or kicked his ass yet, after all. Either one of them seemed on top of his try-before-you-die list.

Harry's lungs felt like they were on fire and he was suddenly so reminded of that night of so many years ago, but he couldn't think too much of it.  _Wouldn't_. His emotions always got in the way when he was being chased down.  
  
He ran into an old building and it was dark, and his eyes barely had the time to grow accustomed to it.

The zombie behind him grunted and growled, and when its hand reached out to grab Harry Harry suddenly stopped running altogether. It rushed Harry by and dragged him with him and Harry let him – he got his knife out of his pocket and slammed it into its chest blindly. It roared in pain but it didn't die, not yet anyway, and Harry yelped when it threw Harry off himself.

Harry landed on his back painfully on the stone floor and his body screamed in protest when he stood up, and for a moment the two of them just sized each other up. Harry's gun was too far away for Harry to make a grab for it and his knife was now embedded in the zombie's chest – right under his collarbone, to be precise. It could bite Harry if he would attempt to get it out of him.

The zombie would be too stupid to avoid getting hit when Harry would throw something at it, though...

Problem was that Harry didn't have anything he could throw. Harry's eyes darted around him, and he spotted a broken pipe behind the zombie. The zombie screamed and lurched forward again and Harry gulped, running in a perfect circle and switching their positions. He bent down and gripped the pipe, stumbled, and held it out in front of him. He toppled over when the zombie ran to him even though the pipe had punctured the empty eyesocket of the monster, another wave of blood gushing down on him. When he tried to break his fall with his hand he cried out in pain, feeling something  _snap_ and puncture his skin.

Harry heard a couple of bangs and then footsteps. He tried to scramble up, but his hand just ached so  _much_ and the zombie was just so fucking _heavy_  that –

'Harry!' Tom called and Harry made a muffled noise. He raised his unharmed arm and waved, tears stinging in his eyes.  _Shit_. This really fucking hurt, and lying underneath the stinking body of someone that had once been human didn't make it any better. He felt light headed.

But he had survived.

And he had killed a couple of the monsters that had destroyed his life.

Tom kicked the body off him and hauled Harry to his feet. There was already a bruise forming on Tom's cheek, and he had a long cut on his neck. He was bathed in blood.

'Did it bite you?' Tom asked sternly, his eyes raking over Harry's body, making him feel naked somehow. He caught sight of how Harry cradled his hand to his chest and he made to snatch it, but Harry stumbled backwards. A piece of his bone was puncturing his pale skin and Harry needn't see to know that it was just bad.

And maybe it was the adrenaline that was still rushing through him. Or maybe it was just the fact that Tom looked absolutely fucking sinful with his hair falling into his eyes like that, his shirt torn and sticky with blood and his hands slick with blood as well.

Either way, Harry just reached forward, gripped Tom by the back of his neck with his unharmed hand and slammed his lips against Tom's.

Just because he could.

Because he had almost died.

Because Tom had come for him.

And just maybe because he was about to pass out from the pain spreading through his hand.


	4. Safe From Pain

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 4

_**'Safe from pain'** _

Turned out kissing someone while you're high on pain isn't a good idea for two reasons. One, being, that the person you just kissed will think you've totally lost your mind and won't take you seriously. The second? Unless actually vomiting after doing so was part of your plan…

Yeah.

Not a good idea at all.

Harry couldn't remember much after the vomiting – he had pulled away from Tom's lips, turned around and threw up in the bushes somewhere near them before passing out. Something told him that Tom hadn't found that very attractive.

When Harry used to imagine his first kiss with Tom he had admittedly expected more romance or maybe just not the stench of blood and agonizing pain, thus he kind of promised himself that for as long as Tom wouldn't bring it up, Harry himself wouldn't mention it either. Which actually was not too big of a deal since his hand and the bone sticking out of it offered plenty of distraction.

 _'We're heading to town,'_ Tom had said, when Harry had been waking up again. He must've carried Harry to the car because up to this moment Harry couldn't remember ever walking to it.  
  
Tom's monotone voice had vaguely reminded Harry of that voice that used to do the announcements at train stations. Harry wished he had remained unconscious because the pain was just… Harry just had to do all he could to keep himself from crying out whenever Tom drove over even the smallest bumps in the road. He hadn't even remembered the kiss at that point – had been too busy biting the inside of his cheek and was only vaguely aware of Tom's voice.

 _'And you decided that on your own?'_ Harry had ground out. He cursed when Tom drove over a bigger bump in the road because the slight movement had jarred his hand painfully and he had glared at him.

 _'Given you broke your hand, we're almost out of gas and bullets…'_ Tom sarcastically had pretended to be actually mulling this over while Harry had stared at him in irritation, _'yes, I just did,'_ Tom concluded.

 _'Asshole,'_ Harry had hissed under his breath. Tom had said nothing in reply.

And now they were there.

Tom wasn't really saying anything. The town was near the woods where they had been attacked, so it hadn't been a very long drive, but if it had depended on Harry he would've been more than happy with letting his hand heal on its own. Too bad Tom wouldn't agree with him on that.

Harry hated towns. They all looked like lockdowns – filled with people just sauntering the streets, looking unhealthy and worn out. The few humans that were left acted like the very monsters they were running from with the way they barely seemed aware of anything other than that they just needed to survive. Harry kept his chin up and quickened his pace, having some trouble keeping up with Tom but not a lot.

People were just trying to move on. Make the best out of life and still hoping, even after all these years, that this was all a bad dream. The very few children that had born these past years didn't know any better – they would never have the childhood Harry had.  
  
Tom carefully followed the directions they had been given and Harry just stared, feeling unsafe somehow. It was the fact that zombies were driven by madness and fueled by endless hunger that made them so frightening. It was the fact that humans planned their heinous crimes that made them  _demonic_.

Tom had always said that that was what made the Brotherhood so strong. The fact that they acted like zombies, but thought like human beings. Tom had never explained Harry what the Brotherhood had done. He probably never had felt the need to do so.

Harry's eyes lingered on a little girl, who stared right back at him with eerie eyes. Her hair was long and white, and she was holding the hand of a man who was probably her father. When Harry looked at the man he realized the man had been looking right back at him, and he could feel the strain of his eyebrows when he forced himself not to scowl at him. Tom's hand gripped his upper arm and tugged him forward.

When the virus had spread people had taken the opportunity to start stealing things at first – breaking into stores, shamelessly making people pull over and yanking them out of their cars… And that was why humanity nowadays wasn't to be trusted. They all wanted to survive just a bit too much, and everyone just had too much to lose and to gain personally. After all, Tom and Harry had more than once stolen from fellow survivors as well.

Harry stumbled and Tom instantly gripped his arm tighter. It was more of a reflex than him having desired to help Harry, really, and Harry could appreciate that in Tom. He left Harry to fend for his own most of the time because he knew Harry could handle it. When Harry had just been a boy Tom had constantly dragged him with him. Killing zombies in front of him. Forcing him to fight the ones that Tom had carefully tied up at first so Harry could learn how to fight.

In a strange way, protecting him.

It had always been Tom to stitch Harry up, always Tom to get them food, always Tom to find them a place to sleep at night. It was Harry's job to stitch Tom up in return, to cook their food, to mark safe places on their maps and to set up traps. It seemed natural to be working together with Tom like this. To have chores and to be join forces, as a duo.

Tom's hand felt secure on Harry's arm and Harry tried to take bigger steps. Every step he took jarred his hand and it felt like it was on fire. It wouldn't surprise Harry if it was.

They finally stopped walking and Harry nearly ran into Tom. His hand was no longer bleeding but it felt slick nonetheless, maybe with sweat. Tom stared at the door as if he somehow expected zombies to burst through it, but they wouldn't. They were safe here and it felt strange but then again maybe Tom just wasn't willing to trust whomever it was that was behind this door and serving as a doctor. He had never trusted any of the other survivors. With good reason, Harry had always supposed, but whereas Harry always felt this need to help everyone Tom would just ignore those in need. If it hadn't been for Harry he'd leave everyone off to die, even if they were begging him for help.

They walked in and a bell chimed somewhere above their heads. The sound startled Harry and he leaned more into Tom.

There was a woman in a white coat sitting behind a desk and she looked up from the book she had been reading. Her nametag read Ginny.  
  
Tom was pushing Harry toward her with a sneer on his face, as if he hated the woman even if he didn't know her. Ginny's eyes widened when she caught sight of the hand Harry had been cradling against his chest. Whether it was in worry or disgust, Harry didn't quite know, but he just hoped she'd be capable of helping him. She looked like she wasn't much older than Harry himself.

She ushered them in a back room without introducing herself and Harry didn't really care much for introductions either. He sat down on the ratty bed and stretched his arm out to her, and Tom watched them both very carefully, his hand on his gun.

'I can't work if you threaten me,' Ginny stated and she aimed her brown eyes at Tom. Harry vaguely noted she smelt of flowers. 'If you don't want to watch then just go outside.' Tom sneered and opened his mouth to reply, but Harry cut him to it.

'It's okay,' he assured him shakily, the first thing he had said in hours. Tom looked at him before he slowly nodded, and then he sat down next to Harry. He removed his hand from his gun and stared at Harry's hand.

'Try flexing your fingers, will you?' she asked patiently, and Harry did. He hissed in pain, and all he managed was a pathetic twitch under her close scrutiny. His hand was swollen and had all kinds of colors to it, the white of his bone sticking out so obviously it made Harry wince. It was weird to stop and think about it, but Harry had never expected his bones to actually look this pure white. He had expected them to have a yellow tone.

Ginny sighed and she poked and prodded at Harry's hand for a while, constantly muttering apologies under her breath when he'd let out a pained noise. When she was finally done she released a long sigh as if she had made a decision, but wasn't very happy with it.

'I don't have anything to ease the pain,' she said, and then she looked at Tom. 'Could you hold him down?'

Harry frowned in confusion, but he was too tired and trusting to struggle when Tom pushed his shoulders into the bed. He bit his lower lip, stared into Tom's eyes and then felt the brush of her hand on his own before –

'Fuck!' Harry exclaimed, his hand jerking in her grasp. She kept it firmly in her grasp and Tom gripped Harry's wrist to hold it still for her. Harry released a pained cry when she started pushing the bone back into his skin and he closed his eyes, legs kicking out until Tom patiently sat on top of his hips, keeping him from running away. If he had thought breaking his hand was agony then he definitely had no words for how this felt.

Harry was biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making too much noise, but he quickly broke the thin skin and he tasted blood so sharp it was like someone had shoved a handful of coins into his mouth. Hot tears were leaking out of his closed eyes and it was like she was trying to grind his bones together, trying to –

Harry gasped when something just  _shifted_ inside of his hand and he heard the soft murmur of Ginny's voice. Then, Tom released him again and Harry could just lay there and pant for air. The nails of his free hand had dug into the sheets and Harry cried out again when something stinging got poured over his hand. He didn't need to look to know he was bleeding - his entire hand throbbed and random bursts of pain shot up from his hand into his wrist.

He turned his head and saw her putting away a bottle again and she dabbed at his hand with cotton pads. Harry tried to move it away, but all it resulted into was Tom gripping his wrist again. Harry noticed belatedly that Tom was still on top of him.

Harry was shivering, twitching in pain. He felt sick, like he was about to throw up, and he turned his head to the side when she started bandaging his hand so tightly it sent tingles down his entire body. She just kept touching it and Harry kept murmuring pleads, he later on realized, a mantra of ' _It hurts stop please you need to stop please please please_ ' and he just whimpered in relief when she was finally done. The fabric of the bandages felt like they could chafe up his entire skin no matter how soft they felt.

Tom was brushing his hair out of his eyes and then there was a murmur of their voices. The room felt like it was spinning, and it came to a surprise to Harry that he could hear anything besides the rush of blood in his ears.

'You should've come earlier – it didn't get infected but the swelling made it really difficult for me to push his broken bones back into place. It wasn't a clean break.'

Tom didn't reply, he just Harry's forehead absentmindedly.

'Why aren't you letting him stay here anyway?' she continued in a voice that clearly said she didn't want Harry to hear. But he heard her anyway and he stared at Tom, finding it was easier to fight off the need to vomit when he focused on one point. Tom smoothed Harry's hair from his face. 'He's just a boy – he'd be better off with people -'

'He is safe with  _me_ ,' Tom snapped at her. His eyes had that cruel thing in them once more and Harry shakily reached for Tom's hand, needing something to squeeze down on so he could focus more on the pressure. They shared a look of something, something that made Harry shiver and something that made Tom relax just a bit.

Tom broke eye contact again. His large hand squeezed Harry's in a silent offer of comfort.

'What do I owe you?' he said. It was hard to imagine Ginny had done something good for them. He vaguely wondered how she would've coped if Tom hadn't been there to hold Harry down. Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a jar of pills. Ginny looked at it before she tightly nodded.

'That'll do,' she replied when she took it. Money nowadays meant nothing anymore, and people usually liked to be paid in objects, canned foods, fresh meat or clothing instead. Tom said nothing in return, and he just pulled Harry up in a sitting position. Ginny grabbed a piece of fabric and created a sling out of it for Harry to put his arm in, so he wouldn't have it dangling by his side all the time.

'Thank you for your time and service,' Tom drawled once she was done. Harry gripped the front of Tom's shirt with his good hand, his knees feeling shaky. He had a bit of trouble walking the first few steps but eventually he managed, and only when they were outside and had been walking for about 5 minutes or so did Harry speak again.

'Where did you find the pills?' he asked, voice trembling a bit. Tom glanced at him before he shifted so that he was no longer gripping Harry's arm and dragging him along, but merely holding it to keep him steady.

'I stole them from her desk when she wasn't looking,' he said and Harry blinked, before he looked back up at Tom.

'You mean -?' Tom shrugged, as if he hadn't just fooled someone by paying with something he had stolen from them in the first place. Harry mentally applauded for Tom for having thought so fast and tucked that trick away in the back of his mind so he could use it later, whenever it should come in handy. They kept walking, but Harry had no idea where they were headed. When he asked, Tom looked at him before shrugging again.

'Somewhere we can sleep,' he said. His blue eyes lingered on Harry's lips but he didn't say a word.

Harry suddenly remembered he had kissed Tom not too long ago. He absentmindedly brushed his fingers over his lips as if that could make up for the lack of pressure from Tom's lips against them, but he could not clearly remember what they had felt like at all. Tom's lips weren't chapped so they couldn't have felt rough against his own, and still… He released a surprised noise when a fat, whale-like man with a mustache suddenly stood in front of them, his hand already reaching to his waistband for his gun. The man hadn't been attacking them, however, and he looked at them with a eager look in his eyes. Tom scowled at him.

'What do you want?' he snapped.

'Have you been to little Whinging?' the man asked them. He gripped Tom's arm and Harry's eyes darted back and forth. Tom shoved the man off.

'There's nothing but the infected there,' Tom snapped cruelly. The man gaped at him and Tom started walking again, like he hadn't just very well told this man that his family had been dead for years.

* * *

Night fell quickly after they had found a house that hadn't been occupied just yet, and after placing traps to keep people outside and leaving their things behind in the living room, Harry had fallen asleep on a ratty old bed that creaked whenever he moved around too much.

He couldn't have slept for more than an hour because it was still dark and he could still hear voices outside. Tom wasn't there when he woke, but Harry didn't need him to. He hadn't been alone in months and even if Tom's company was great, sometimes it was nice to just not have pessimistic or sarcastic comments thrown at him all the time.

The warm summer air smelt kind of sweet, and the streets were only weakly illuminated by candles. It occurred to Harry that he had never walked the streets like this at night, not when he was alone. When he had been just a boy, he had only been allowed to leave the house by himself if he would go to his godfather's house, who lived right around the corner, or when he'd go out and play with some of his friends. It felt liberating to be capable of walking around here, without having to worry or fear for his life. Without awkward tension.

Even if he hated towns because of the people that lived there, they also reminded him of what he had lost.

Of whom he had lost.

Sometimes Harry did think he could stay in a place like this, with Tom. Try to connect with other people and be a normal teenage boy. But he also didn't feel safe with people. There was just no telling whether someone was good or bad… though lately Harry had been wondering what made the Brotherhood, for example, so bad. They seemed to be influential and Harry had heard people whisper about them on the streets earlier. Tom had never explained – he had just said they were pure evil.

Nothing more.

Speaking of Tom, Harry had no idea if he had really kissed him. Maybe he had been so out of it that he had started making things up? It had to be – otherwise Tom would've confronted him already. He was a pretty straight forward person after all.

Harry's hand still throbbed and hurt like hell, but admittedly it hurt less somehow, like the bandages kept everything in place and were some sort of cushion and the sling kept Harry from jarring it every time he walked. He'd have to discuss with Tom how he could fight best with his hand like this or if he would have to remain in the background and shoot zombies while Tom was fighting them. Harry's aim was pretty good, after all.

He spotted Tom before Tom had spotted him, and he was standing across a pretty girl. She had her back against the wall and they were talking, and Tom was leaning his hand over her shoulder against the wall as well. They looked close enough to kiss.

Harry abruptly stopped walking.

And of course it would be logical for Tom to end up liking a girl. Guys were supposed to like girls… but that did nothing from keeping a horrible feeling settle in Harry's stomach all of a sudden, like some kind of ugly animal had woken up inside of him. He just wanted to push the girl away and –

But why? Why would Harry want to hurt a harmless girl? He felt his eyebrows knit together in confusion and he bit his bottom lip. He felt a bit silly, standing there, and he thought to himself that he should start moving again but he couldn't. He wanted to see. If Tom would like another person, Harry deserved to know.

But much to his surprise the girl said something, probably about Harry, and Tom looked over his shoulder. He had a charming smile on his face, one that he had worn whilst talking to the girl, one that Harry knew would make anyone weak in the knees.

Including himself.

Tom pushed away from the wall and walked up to Harry, and Harry looked up at him when he was close again. He vaguely noticed his hand was itchy, but he couldn't scratch it. Tom had told him he would disrupt the healing process if he would do so.

'Hey,' he said stupidly, not knowing what else to say.

'Hey,' Tom said in return, smirking a bit. 'I was just talking to Pansy,' he pointed to the girl who leaned against the wall and shamelessly kept staring at Tom while Harry felt that thing inside of him sneer at her, 'you need new clothes, and she-'

'My clothes are fine,' Harry said, feeling irritated. The prospect of accepting something from her made Harry feel humiliated somehow. Tom looked at him in surprise. He probably hadn't expected Harry to snap at him like that.

'What's bothering you?' Tom instantly asked, sounding a bit snappy as well. Harry shook his head and fought the need to apologize. He was getting more and more out of control, wasn't he? It dawned in on Harry that Tom had only been trying to get the both of them the supplies he needed, and it was common that Tom used his charm whenever he could, but…

'Nothing – I just don't know. Can we go? Please?'

Tom frowned at him, but he nodded as well. Maybe he understood or maybe he didn't. It was just that the way Tom looked at Harry was too intimate, just too much there and it made Harry feel uncomfortable.

'Fine. After tonight we will.' Tom's arm reached out as if he wanted to touch Harry, but in the end he seemed to decide against it and stuffed his hands into his pockets instead. He started walking and Harry followed him. When he looked over his shoulder he saw the black haired girl looking at Tom in disappointment and he couldn't help but feel achievement at that.

And it was completely random, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a victorious smile when Tom's hand brushed against the back of his head before his arm settled around Harry's shoulders.

* * *

When they left in the morning Harry's hand still ached and he was staring out of the window of the car while Tom's eyes were aimed tensely on the road, as if he was struggling to keep himself from doing something. Harry was torn in between enjoying the silence and loathing it.

There were different types of silences that Harry had quickly learned to pick up on after living with Tom. There were the comfortable silences, in which they wouldn't really have anything to say, the angry silences when Harry fought not to say anything that might make it worse while Tom ignored Harry entirely, the silences when all they had to do was look at each other to know what they were thinking...

And then there were the tense silences.

The tense silences were the worst. They were rare, as they both always spoke their minds, but they happened in exact situations like these when they weren't exactly fighting, but weren't comfortable around one another either. Well - Harry wasn't right now. He doubted Tom would ever feel uncomfortable.

Point was that Harry had slowly been realizing he had been feeling jealous yesterday, and his own feelings for Tom were driving him insane. He was just too aware of him, too aware of how Tom's jaw was tensed up, too aware of how his own fingers were drumming an uneven tune on his thigh... They didn't have a thing to say to one another, yet Harry wished that Tom would just talk. He wanted to know if Tom realized that Harry had been jealous -  _he probably had_ \- and what he had thought of being kissed by Harry -  _if Harry hadn't made it up in his mind_  - and if he just knew what Harry felt for him -  _probably not_  - but most of all Harry just wanted them to stop being so goddamn weird around one another.

Harry got it. They hadn't talked about their earlier fight just yet and Tom was most likely just thinking about that, but there was just an aching suspicion that...

Harry closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. As soon as he had closed his eyes Tom looked at him, his eyes lingering on Harry's lips again before he turned his attention back to the road.

* * *

When they stopped driving that night and Tom started pulling out the barbed wire from their trunk, Harry was groggy. He had been stretching his legs a bit when he suddenly froze, catching sight of a light somewhere in the distance. Without really thinking twice he started walking toward it, but as soon as he had taken a couple of steps towards it Tom was holding him back already. The wire laid on the ground, abandoned, and the tension between them was firmly back in place.

'Where are you going?' Tom asked. Harry shrugged and pointed to the light in the distance. It looked like a tent, and Harry was just curious.

'Are you crazy?' Tom asked incredulously. His eyes stared at the tent for a while, and then he shook his handsome head as if deciding something. 'No - look, Harry. We can't. Let's just go.' He already started tugging Harry into the direction of the car without waiting for a reply, and Harry pulled his arm out of his grip. He frowned at Tom in frustration.

'Why's that?' he said. He took a few steps toward the light as if challenging Tom. Tom followed him.

'We need to be careful or-'

'Is this about the Brotherhood again?'

Tom didn't reply to that, but he was wearing a frown of his own on his face now. Harry huffed and stared him in the eye for a short moment before bending down and grabbing one of their guns and stuffing it into his waistband, patting his leg for his knife. Tom just kept watching him and it was unnerving.

'You know what? I think you're full of shit,' Harry snapped. Tom looked at him as if he had grown a second head, and he remained silent for a short moment as if he couldn't decide whether or not Harry was actually being serious right now.

'Excuse you?' he finally said.

'You heard me. I think you're just overreacting about the Brotherhood. They haven't done anything to us.' Harry started walking toward the tent and Tom started following him with a dark scowl on his face. The expression didn't mean any good, but right now Harry didn't care. It wasn't that he wanted to upset Tom - okay, maybe he did - but...

'You may not realize it, but you just said one of the most stupidest things I have ever heard, Harry Potter,' Tom snapped at him. Harry just kept walking with a determined look in his eyes. 'Harry, we need to go back-'

' _You_ can go back. I want to see if there are other people there.' Harry stopped walking and looked Tom in the eye for a short while, before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Harry knew, though, that he was being reckless. But after going to town he just felt like doing something reckless. After seeing Tom with another person, he just felt like upsetting Tom as much as Tom had upset him, even if he had never done so intentionally.

'You're going to get us killed,' Tom finally decided. Harry's eyebrow rose but he otherwise didn't say much and he struggled to keep up with Tom when Tom started walking ahead. Tom didn't give in to him – he was playing with their lives by trying to show Harry a point. It wouldn't be the first time he had done so.

After he had gone with Tom, when he had only been 12 years old, he hadn't been willing to believe that zombies actually weren't human anymore and he hadn't been willing to allow Tom to kill any of them, firmly believing that Tom was a murderer and that he wasn't fighting for his life. Just to prove his point, Tom had captured a zombie in their trunk and let it out - of course it wouldn't have been capable of touching Harry, Tom would've made sure of that, but Harry hadn't known that at the time. He had just stood there, frozen in shock when indeed someone who had once been someone's daughter started attacking him.

Harry would never forget the first time he felt blood on his bare skin. It had been hot and sticky and slick, and he had thrown up and cried when Tom had shot her in front of him. It hadn't been just because the girl had been killed in front of him, though. It had been because that had been the first time Harry had really realized that his parents were now either dead or the same kind of monsters.

Harry would also never forget how Tom had wrapped his arms around him rather awkwardly, as if he hadn't known how to comfort someone, and had promised him that he would be there for him. That they would survive, together.

By the time they got into the tent, Harry somehow completely got why Tom had thought the Brotherhood to be dangerous. His breath got stuck in his throat and he vaguely wondered that why, every time that Tom tried to prove a point, it had to be accompanied with images that would haunt Harry for the rest of his life.

There were dead bodies slouched in chairs, everywhere. Plastic cups were strewn around the ground and it was like they had all committed suicide at the same time. Tom murmured something but Harry didn't pay any attention to it. Instead he started moving further and further into the tent, trying almost desperately to find someone who was still alive.

But they were all dead.

Harry started walking forward, his eyes wide in realization. There was a cross nailed to a pillar.

In desperate times, false gods abound. People put their faiths in the loudest preachers and hoped they're right. But sometimes they're wrong.

Harry's eyes lingered on the cross.

Dead wrong.

Harry heard a noise behind him but he shrugged it off, thinking it was Tom. A hand curled around his wrist and he tried to shake it off, feeling irritation toward the tall male. 'Tom, let g-'

His eyes widened when he turned his head. The dead people – they suddenly weren't dead at all, and they were holding guns and-

Had they actually been ambushed? Harry stared in shock at Tom, whose arms were forced behind his back. There was a gag in his mouth and his eyes were angry while they stared into Harry's. Harry thought that he would've said something along the lines of  _told you so_  if this situation hadn't been so, well, fucked up.

And even if Tom had only been planning on proving a point to Harry, he had probably only been counting on one or three men in a tent, drinking alcohol and too drunk to really do anything. If Tom had seen this coming he would've thrown Harry in the car the moment he had even considered going to the tent an option. Harry just cried out in pain when his wrist was forced behind his back as well. He saw Tom struggling, but they just got pushed forwards.

* * *

If Harry's life had been a story he would've been very poorly amused with the way things were progressing and he was going to kick the author's ass for giving him such a piece of a crap as a life.

Harry's arm was painfully wrenched behind his back, the arm in his sling was being held by a tall man and only recently had his blindfold been taken off. His glasses had been confiscated a long time ago along with the rest of the weapons they had had on them but they couldn't have been walking very far. He counted his steps and carefully remembered which directions they had walked in so they might as well shouldn't have bothered with the blindfolds, but Harry figured that the situation wouldn't have been this overly dramatic (almost theatric in its own surrealism) without the use of them.

Harry stumbled a bit when he got pushed forward, staring at the back of Tom's head as if willing him to find a way to get them out, because his own mind didn't seem to be willing to do anything but panic at the moment. It seemed that the drama in their acts – Brotherhood, he reminded himself, this couldn't be anyone else but the Brotherhood – had been working.

He didn't recognize a thing here, but he knew that he would be capable of finding his way back. It had been one of the first things Tom had taught him after all – to always remember exactly how many steps he had taken and in what direction, to find his way back. He was sure he'd make Tom very proud if he tell him they had been walking 297 steps east so far.

There were eyes staring at him from behind masks. The only sources of light were the fires in front of the tents and the flames felt hot on Harry's exposed arms. When he was forced to kneel he nearly toppled over, somewhat grateful to be capable of giving his aching feet a rest. When he aimed his eyes up again he was facing the only man who wasn't cloaked – a middle aged man with blonde hair stood before them. He noted that Tom was forced to remain standing, and the blonde wore a look of badly concealed rage on his face.

'My name is Gellert Grindelwald,' he said, his voice quivering and his German accent thick and impossible to miss, 'and you killed two of my men, in cold blood.'

Harry's eyes went from Tom to Gellert, his mouth feeling dry behind his gag. The men that had attacked that woman about a week ago had worn cloaks as well. It suddenly dawned in on him how horrible the situation they were in was – the Brotherhood had seen them coming and had set up an ambush, to get even with them.

'You shot one of them in the shoulder, beat him up and shot him in the head.' Tom looked unimpressed. His blue eyes bored into Gellert's cold eyes, and he didn't even attempt saying a thing. Gellert kept staring at him. 'He was my son.'

Harry's eyes widened while Gellert kept talking, all too aware of what was going on. They had killed the wrong people.

And now they were going to pay the price.

'He was only 16.' Gellert inhaled a sharp breath, turned his head away for a moment as if he struggled to keep himself together and then turned back to Tom. He slapped him in the face and Tom's head snapped to the left from the effort of it, and Harry made a noise of protest behind his gag. He struggled and tried to get up but cold hands kept him down, forcing him to watch.

Tom still didn't attempt to make a noise or move away, and he just inhaled a deep breath through his nose. He slowly turned his head back to look Gellert in the eye. Almost promising him that he will join his beloved son very soon. 'He never returned from hunting. God rest his soul.'

Tom still didn't say a thing and Gellert grew irritated by it. Harry could read it in his body language, and it wasn't much of a shock when he turned to Harry. He gripped Harry's hair and forced his head backwards, his throat exposed. For a moment Harry thought he was going to slit it, but all Gellert did was study his face.

'He was just as old as this boy is,' he said, as if he was trying to see his son through Harry's eyes. He ran his fingers down the long column of Harry's throat, petting him. Harry tried to move his head away, but to no avail. 'You're a fine looking young man, aren't you? Is he your brother?'

Gellert turned to look at Tom again. He gripped Harry's gag and Tom made a muffled noise, struggling against his bonds at last. He pulled the gag down and Harry stared the man straight in the eye. He could practically feel his blood rushing to his ears, his face darkening.

'My family is dead,' he said in a cold tone, his voice trembling in anger. For a moment the man's eyes just stared into Harry's and Harry saw no good in him at all. He was rotten to the core.

'Don't you worry,' Gellert replied, as if he wanted to comfort Harry. Tom's breath was picking up now, looking nothing short of an enraged animal. 'We'll get you some religion.' With his hand still on Harry's head, he pushed him down until his forehead was pressed into the dirt. Harry let him, not because he feared him, but because he for once knew that he would only make things worse by resisting. 'Bring you to  _God_ and the right way.'

Harry couldn't see his face, but he just knew that Gellert was staring into Tom's eyes while he spoke to Harry. Somehow he just knew he was doing this because he knew he was getting a reaction out of Tom.

His grip tightened on Harry to the point where it hurt and then he pulled Harry's head up again. Tom was struggling violently in the arms of the man who kept him down, his eyes staring into Harry's. They shared a look but this time, Harry couldn't fathom what the expression in Tom's eyes was. He had normally always been capable of reading Tom, it had been something he had learned throughout the years.

Harry was pulled up to his feet and he yelled behind his gag after it was put into place again, voice picking up when Gellert turned to Tom again. He gripped Tom's chin and completely ignored Harry.

'As for you, Thomas Riddle…' There was surprise in Tom's eyes and Gellert released a cold laugh, having seen it before Tom had composed himself again. 'Yes, we know who you are. You kill them – those who came back to serve us for the greater good even when you're secretly one of them. Them who God has brought down to do his work, leaving us to purify the blood of our fathers. And when that day comes, he'll take them back. Peace and purity will rule this world. Forever!' he turned to the men behind Harry. 'Amen!'

'Amen!' they parroted, like it was something that they had all practiced. Gellert's eyes had lit up from the sheer sense of power he felt from that, probably, and he turned back to Tom. He pulled his gag down.

'What do you have to say for yourself, sinner?' he asked. Tom lifted his head and spat in his face – Harry jumped in his bonds. And to think he had even expected Tom to just submit to this man… Harry realized he felt a mixture of pride and irritation, because Tom was being reckless and it was the first time he had ever done anything like that.

And that just proved how much Tom hated the man in front of him.

'Fuck you – and  _fuck_ your God.'

Gellert just laughed and carelessly brushed the spit off his face.  
  
'Well – you can tell him that yourself. You're about to meet him.' He beckoned to men to take Tom away, and Harry got pushed around a bit before he was forced to follow. Tom looked at him from over his shoulder and Harry met his eyes.

Harry knew that he was safe for now – but Tom wasn't. Far from it.


	5. And Truth

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 5

_**'And Truth'** _

Tom had never introduced himself as Thomas Riddle to Harry.

Harry was becoming painfully aware of all the things he didn't know about Tom, and the worst was that Harry right now feared he never would get the chance to ask him about them either.

The heat of Tom's thigh was practically burning through the fabric of his worn jeans and Harry was too aware of it – too aware of how it flexed every now and then, how Tom's bare arm was pressed up against Harry's as well… They were seated in the backseat of a van, and were being driven somewhere Harry didn't know. He was trembling in anxiety, he realized, and although their gags were off they didn't talk. His mouth felt too dry and he knew Gellert and the other man in the van were straining their ears to hear if they were speaking. Harry himself was straining his ears just to hear Tom breathing. In his heart it felt like he would never have the chance to do so again.

The minutes seemed to pass agonizingly slow, yet too fast – Harry wanted to say things, do things… but he was physically just numbed. Losing Tom had never been an option to him and now just the mere thought that it was so very possible scared him more than anything. Harry had never been alone in his life.

Now, it wasn't just a thought or an option. It was something that would happen, inevitably.

Tom's knee bumped into his own and Harry looked up, swallowing thickly. His good arm was awkwardly tied behind his back, and the arm that was in a sling was constantly jarred because of the bumps in the road. Wherever they were going – it wasn't by a main road. Tom's eyes glimmered almost mischievously and Harry licked his dry lips, uncertain of what Tom was getting at. Usually that look meant…

Harry gasped audibly when Tom's hand was suddenly at the small of his back. Gellert's head turned and Harry was quick to press his body more firmly into Tom's and pretend he had landed on his wounded arm to conceal Tom's hand and create a reason for his sounds. Harry twisted his face in a painful expression and put up a great show of whimpering, feeling Tom shift until his hand was back behind his own back again.

Tom had freed his hands.

He sat back up again when he was certain Tom had hidden his hand again, but Gellert still stared at him with cold blue eyes. They weren't beautiful like Tom's – they reminded Harry of shark eyes. They were just as dead, expressionless and almost cruel and definitely demanding in their harsh gaze.

'So if he isn't your brother, what the hell is he to you, boy?' Gellert's gruff voice reached Harry's ears and at first he didn't plan on answering at all, until he felt Tom's foot nudge his. He glanced at Tom, before he glared into the eyes of the man in front of him.

Harry's mouth moved, but he didn't know how to reply. He wanted to say something witty, something insulting, something that wouldn't cause them any more trouble… but he didn't know what Tom was to him. Tom's hand brushed over the small of his back again, slipping underneath his shirt. His hand felt large and warm on his body, almost demanding attention.

Gellert's face suddenly darkened. 'Are you a fag?'

'I don't smoke,' Harry instantly denied. Gellert stared at him for a long time, before he burst out in laughter. The teen blinked in confusion and was unsure if he had just made a fool out of himself, but when he looked at Tom from the corner of his eyes he saw that the elder male didn't seem to have tensed up.

Whatever he had done to amuse the blonde, it wasn't bad. He hadn't screwed anything for him and Tom up.

'Good thing you don't,' Gellert said once he was done laughing. Harry's confusion seemed to please him and Harry forced himself to remain quiet, to keep from asking any more questions. He leaned backward a bit, bit his lip and felt Tom's thumb stroke circles on his skin. The touch was intimate and Harry couldn't recall a time where Tom had touched him specifically there in that way before, but he found he liked it. He liked the rough feeling of the palms of Tom's hands on his bare skin and if he would close his eyes he could pretend they weren't in danger. Like it was just the two of them, living in the moment, in safety. As it always had been.

Harry became to acknowledge that he hadn't appreciated the safety Tom had offered enough. Not even close to enough - now that he was experiencing other kinds of threats, other kinds of danger, he realized just how good Tom had been for him these years. He could've been like Grindelwald and humiliate Harry, or kill him. Play with him before he had left him off to die. It was obvious that Tom had the potential of being cruel. Harry had seen it with his own eyes - seen him kill plenty of people who could've been saved. It was just the way the world worked now, Harry supposed, and he had grown up to learn that playing nice, sharing, helping other people when in need didn't get you far no matter what his parents had said. The only person Harry had really needed to keep safe, assist and share food and the like with had been Tom.

Just like Harry had been that person for Tom ever since they had met, no matter how much trouble Harry had caused him in the beginning. No matter how often Harry had broken down and resisted and yelled and screamed at him for killing creatures that hadn't been human anymore. He had been there for Harry unconditionally.

They slowly came to a halt, and Gellert's face twisted up in a smirk.

'Last stop for the weak of faith,' he announced, beckoning for the other man to get Tom out. Harry's heart sank and the somewhat relaxed state Tom had worked his body into was completely gone. Tom almost casually removed his hand and didn't even protest when the doors got opened and he was dragged out. Both his hands were behind his back again, in the darkness looking like they were still tied together.

But Harry did protest.

Harry protested because Tom was his world, and because he was scared and needed to protect because he had promised Tom that they would take care of one another. He wanted to scream because the situation was all just so unfair - why should Tom be harmed for killing someone who had been harming someone else? Why should Tom be the one getting pushed out into the wilderness, to fend for his own while Harry was still here, safe in the van?

Harry shot to his feet and his heart momentarily stopped beating in dread when he heard all kinds of things move in the bushes and he released a desperate cry when a zombie suddenly stepped into sight.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Gellert lit a tree branch on fire and dropped it on the ground at Tom's feet – his face twisting up in sadistic glee when the zombies danced backwards at the sight of the light. As soon as their eyes grew accostumed to it they moved forward again.

'Don't let that flame go out,' Gellert said.

'No! Tom!' Harry tried to get up and they tried to hold him back, but he just stomped on the feet of the man who did it. He was temporarily released but all he managed were three steps until he was dragged back. Harry fought again but Tom was too busy keeping the zombies off to properly look at him.

And it just broke Harry's heart in a million pieces. There were four of them, and there was no way Tom would manage fighting them. Not like this – Tom had never fought zombies without weapons before. Harry's yells had distracted the four zombies enough to look at them instead of Tom with mild interest, but they focused back on Tom again.

'Let- Let me go!' Harry said when Gellert pulled him back, struggling heavily in his arms, 'I need to- Tom!'

'Don't make me do this. You have done nothing wrong, and I hate harming children,' Gellert said calmly. Harry ignored him and tried to move forward again.

Gellert slammed the back of his gun down on his head suddenly and pain exploded in Harry's head, making his vision swim for a moment and distracting him enough to be dragged into the car again. Gellert shot a victorious smirk at Tom, who had temporarily looked away but looked back at them at the sound of Harry's pained cry. He looked positively livid and his eyes shone in the darkness, reflecting the headlights of the car like a crystal.

'Let's see if you can save yourself out of this,' Gellert snapped. Harry's body got dragged back into the van and Tom's teeth were bared in a snarl. In the darkness, he suddenly resembled the zombies quite a bit.

'I'm going to destroy you,' Tom hissed. Gellert laughed and got into the car again and Harry released a disorientated moan in pain. When Gellert looked into his rearview mirror, he watched Tom run off in the darkness, zombies chasing him right after.

'I doubt it,' he said. He briefly glanced at the boy in the backseat, whose forehead was bleeding. He looked pale and painfully young, and he had passed out.

* * *

When Harry woke up again, he awoke with a startle. His head was rested in the lap of a woman, and his eyes were instantly wide open, heart fluttering in his chest, almost pounding against his ribs as if it wanted to break right through his bones.

'Tom,' he whispered, as if uttering his name would've made a change. He felt confusion and dread go through him when he took in his surroundings; took in the tents, the people, the stares… it hadn't been a bad dream. He was where they had gotten caught in the first place; he recognized the trees.

But Tom wasn't there.

A horrible hollow feeling settled itself over Harry and Harry's body just froze, his mind blank for the first time in a very long time.

Why wasn't Tom there?

He pressed his hand against his mouth and it felt like the world just stopped spinning. His mind was completely gone and Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh at the irony of it all - Tom saving Harry and Harry being the one who had made Tom lose his life - or scream in utmost rage and pain or just break down and cry like the little boy he so very often felt he still was. He didn't do any of that, however, and tried to tell himself that it was impossible. That he was being stupid.

That Tom wouldn't die and leave him.

And he wouldn't. Harry refused to – Tom wouldn't...

'I'm sorry,' the woman he was resting his head on whispered. He turned his head upwards and stared at her. It was Ginny. Her face looked bruised and her hair was a mess, and her white coat had tears in it. She smiled sadly at him and stroked his hair and Harry let her. He didn't have it in him to resist.

Harry tried his best to keep a straight face, but it was hard to do so with her staring at him like that so in the end, he wound up turning his head away. A pair of boots came closer and closer, but Harry only vaguely knew who they belonged to.

Grindelwald.

The man dropped empty water cans next to Harry, and he stared down at the teen. Harry vaguely noticed he had his glasses on again - his vision was better than before yet all he could think of was that Tom had been left there to die by his own and Harry should've helped him. Should've, but hadn't been capable to. Hadn't been strong enough. And who knew what could've happened to him? He could've gotten bitten by one of the zombies if he hadn't been careful enough, could've been ripped apart alive, could've been attacked by an animal in the woods…

'Go to the river, fill them up and bring them back, boy,' was all Grindelwald said, yet his voice startled Harry. Harry stared at him, feeling numbed. He got up and swayed on his feet, feeling sick to his stomach at the mere thought of all the possibilities. He supposed he should at least tell the bastard that he wouldn't be able to carry more than one with his hand in the state it was in, but he couldn't.

He didn't want to believe Tom was dead.

But it was unlikely he had survived like that. Without weapons.

'Wait,' Ginny said. Gellert stared at her, watching as she took her necklace off, and gave it to Harry. It had a cross hanging from it and Harry was unsure of what to do with it. The cross reflected the light and it shone in his eyes for a moment and Harry briefly wondered if he should feel obliged to return it to her because he didn't believe in any gods, and especially not this one, not when this god made people do such cruel things. 'Be careful.'

Harry didn't say anything to Ginny in reply. He didn't thank her or in the very least acknowledge she had given him something that had probably been precious to her personally. He grabbed a can and almost blindly started walking.

Tom could be dead, by now.

It was the shock that got to him most, or maybe it was the silent rage that went through him at the mere sight of Grindelwald. He wanted to kill him. Never had Harry felt so much hatred toward a human being before – the worst was that he couldn't do anything about it. Not without his weapons, not when he was so clearly at the disadvantage.

'Hey boy.' Harry froze but didn't turn around. 'You can run if you want to. Ain't nothing out there but sundown and them.' Gellert stepped closer to him and temporarily caressed his face. 'You won't get far.'

Harry started walking again without acknowledging the elder male. When he looked over his shoulder he saw Gellert shoving Ginny into the tent. She cried out and only seconds later there was a stream of ' _please don't I haven't done anything no you can't do this to me please please don't touch me you're hurting me_ -'

There was nothing Harry could do. Nothing he could do to save her, nothing he could do to save Tom because Tom was somewhere he didn't know and he couldn't call him, couldn't find him in these woods, couldn't save him, couldn't come up with a last minute clever plan.

So he just continued walking. And by the time Harry was at the creak tears were stinging in his eyes. He tried his best on focusing on his task but he just couldn't bring it up to do so; couldn't serve a man who…

Without even thinking he released an aggravated noise and dropped the can and kicked it. He started running, his lungs burning but just continuously pushing his way forward, forcing his legs to run faster and faster and just continue. His heart ached and Harry inhaled a deep breath, the wind going through his hair the real thing he could feel right then.

He would make his way back to the car. Tom had taught him how to read the stars – he would get their weapons and send those God loving idiots right back to their God they kept talking about. Harry would destroy them – all of them.

Harry had to keep moving, and be by the car before sundown.

Tom could be there.

And alone, Harry didn't stand a chance.

* * *

'Did the boy return?' Grindelwald drawled when he finally got out of the tent again. He zipped up his pants and ran a hand through his blonde hair, watching as one of his followers ducked his head and shook it. He released a long, drawn out sigh, feeling vague dissapointment. The younger ones were always the ones most difficult to break - he must've had the wrong influence for too long. Pity.

'Would you like us to find him-'

'No, that's alright. He will come to us, eventually.' He looked over his shoulder at the whimpering, naked form of the girl in the tent with a dark scowl on his face. She would have to learn her place as well.

They had a world to repopulate, after all.

* * *

By the time Harry was by the car the sun was already going down. His body all but slammed into it and his breath came out in wheezes – he could barely breathe but he didn't care. He pressed his hands against the window and peeked in.

But Tom wasn't there.

'Fuck,' Harry snapped. He slammed his hands on the windows in desperation. 'Fuck fuck _fuck_!'

He kicked the car in frustration and leaned against it, taking a few deep breaths and burying his face into his hand, his body quivering, his heart feeling as if an icy claw was squeezing it tightly.

He should've seen it coming. Shouldn't have clung onto his hopes, because this world was cruel and especially now that humanity was hard to come by, but all he could think of was that Tom was gone. His companion, guardian, teacher, best friend… he was just gone. There was nothing Harry could do about it. Harry kicked the car again and sobbed, fisting his hair tightly and cursing, tears stinging into his eyes. A dull ache spread from his foot through his ankle, but he ignored it and bit his lip to keep from crying.

Tom always hated to see him cry. Nothing was achieved with tears, after all.

That didn't stop Harry from just really wanting to break down and sob at this moment. His entire world had been Tom these past years, and it wasn't just Tom's guidance that Harry needed. Harry just needed Tom. Tom and his stupid smirks and his sarcastic comments and his large hands and his beautiful eyes. Anything.

His head whipped around when he heard a noise and his entire body was filled with dread when he discovered a lone figure in the distance.

There was a zombie staring at him.

Her dress was torn and dirty and there was blood dribbling from her brow. Her hair was a tangled mess and –  _oh god Harry wasn't armed he was going to die_.

He swallowed thickly and took a hesitant step backwards, and the zombie took one forwards. He took another step, standing behind the car now, in front of the trunk. He hesitantly ran his hands over his pockets, but he knew it was fruitless. They had stripped him off his weapons a long time ago.

What was maybe the worst about this entire situation was that Harry wasn't afraid or thrilled with the promise of a fight. It seemed proper, almost, to die the way Tom probably had. The zombie screamed and started running, and Harry's body hit the bumper of the car. Even so, no matter what his emotions were doing, his instincts seemed to take over. He took in her dead eyes, the look of utmost hunger and rage on her mutilated face... His heart hammered in his chest but his legs wouldn't budge – he was frozen in place, he was going to die, he was going to be torn apart –

Harry released a surprised cry when the trunk suddenly opened and he was pulled inside, only a split second after the trunk closed again did the body of the zombie slam into the car. He heard her scream and slam her fists against it, and he glanced over his shoulder.

This couldn't be.

Harry's entire body tensed up in complete shock and he just stared, his heart stopping its franctic beating completely. Tom was curled around him, and he was holding a flashlight in his hands. There had been a split second where he thought it had been another zombie, but Tom's body was warm and almost protective. His blue eyes bored right into Harry's and Harry felt relief go through him –  _how was this possible why hadn't he come out earlier why hadn't he died thank God Harry wasn't alone he was really okay and he was so beautiful from up close and Harry was just so goddamn grateful_ - and he wanted to open his mouth to ask Tom something, anything, but he yelped instead when she slammed her fist right above Harry's head on the car.

'How many?' Tom asked and Harry swallowed thickly, lips quivering, tear tracks drying on his cheeks. He didn't know how to speak anymore. He just didn't.

'Tom,' he said stupidly. 'Tom -' it was the only word he had been capable of uttering these past hours. The only word that had seemed relevant enough.

'I know,' Tom simply said. He leaned forward and his lips brushed over Harry's forehead and his arms were awkwardly folded around him and Harry had to do everything he could to keep from crying of all stupid things he could do right now. He felt so safe and loved and alive in that small moment, suddenly aware of everything yet nothing but Tom at the same time.

The zombie screeched and slammed her fists on the car again. Harry twitched in Tom's hold and felt disorientated for a small moment before realizing where he was again.

'One,' he whispered, reminding himself of Tom's question but not fully capable of speaking full sentences just yet, Tom's eyes –  _thank God his blue eyes his wonderful amazing blue eyes so expressive and beautiful and intelligent and so very alive_ – boring into his.

'Make noise,' Tom told him and Harry nodded, instantly slamming his fists right back into the car and yelling at the zombie while Tom climbed into the front seat of the car, limbs long and almost elegant as he did so. Tom started the car and the punching suddenly just stopped. She had heard – Harry could hear her move on top of the car. Tom stepped on the gas and then the brakes. She fell off, and Tom drove over her body. Harry heard her scream, felt the car move up and down. But she stood up again.

'Harry!' Tom snapped. Harry climbed out of the trunk, over the back seat. He leaned over Tom's chair. 'I hate those fucking zombies,' the elder male sneered, his facial expression alone enough to convince him of the truth behind those words had he been capable of questioning them in the first place.

Tom stepped on the gas and Harry flew backward into the backseat from the sheer force of it, and he felt Tom hit her again. Only this time, she had gripped a doorhandle. She busted a window and slung a hand into the car, a scream escaping her throat again.

'Grab the steering wheel!' Tom said, narrowly avoiding getting his nose bitten off. Harry nodded and Tom stepped on the gas, trying his best to keep her from getting into the car. She screamed and the noises she made were feral – she was thin and looked like she hadn't eaten in a long time.

Harry leaned over Tom and moved the car to a tree, hearing her scream when he rammed the car against it. Her arms stubbornly held on, but her lower body got torn off and the scent of blood and gore instantly hit Harry's senses. He fought the need to vomit and Tom sneered.

'Fucking bitch!' he snapped, but she didn't do anything but attempt to bite him. Her nails dug into Tom's skin.

'Brakes!' Harry yelled, and Tom instantly complied. He stepped on the brakes and the tires made a screeching sound as the car came to a halt, the force of it making Harry's head slam against the steering wheel and making him feel dizzy. He thought he heard something drop, though he couldn't be too sure, and he just weakly allowed Tom to push him to the side. Tom went back into the driver's seat and he stomped on the gas again, and Harry's body slammed into the backseat when the car suddenly surged forward again.

He felt woozy, and he thought he heard a thump of something when they drove over a rock – the rest of the zombie's body? – and felt like he was going to be sick when Tom drove backwards, forwards, backwards, forwards… Until the lump didn't really feel like anything more than a small bump in the road.

Tom started driving again and he was saying something, probably cursing under his breath. Harry wasn't really aware of it. His head just hurt so much and his vision was just so blurry.

But Tom was alive.

He was alive, and okay, and Harry honestly couldn't care less about whatever the hell Tom was saying because he was just so much more interested in feeling him against himself and he didn't know what it was about near death experiences, but they just proved to him time and time again that he was sodesperate for Tom's embrace.

'- fucking Brotherhood, knew we should've– Harry? Harry, are you okay?' He stared at Tom and a wave of affection hit him.

Tom was still alive.

Without even thinking twice he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tom's neck, his face awkwardly pressed into the seat of the car but it was okay, because he could smell Tom, smell the faint tang of sweat and blood and something else cling to his skin. He was just so, so glad Tom was still alive. That he hadn't been left behind alone. That he was okay. He didn't voice out loud what he was feeling, but he supposed it didn't matter. Tom kept his eyes carefully on the road.

'You're not going to vomit again, are you?' Tom asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Harry's face flushed.

'No,' he murmured nonetheless and then added in a sudden surge of courage though a tremor went through his voice, 'not if you were to kiss me again.'

Much to his surprise Tom drove the car to a halt. He pulled away a bit to see how Tom would react and when he found nothing but amusement in his eyes, he reached up and kissed him again.

And somehow it just felt right.

It felt right and like home and safety and warmth, and like things were okay in this world.


	6. And Choice

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 6

**And Choice**

Turned out that kissing someone while you're definitely not high on pain is, well, totally awesome.

Harry was acutely aware of how Tom's lips pressed against his own, how his body fit right into Tom's, how the space between Tom's fingers was just wide enough for him to effortlessly slip his own between. The days that passed were filled with nothing short of mindless making out, years of pent up frustration just slipping away. He was happy. Almost carefree. He hadn't been like that in a very long time.

If he had to believe what Tom had told him, it had been sheer luck that had helped Tom survive being left in the woods. Tom had ran off into a river, swimming to the other side.

Zombies couldn't swim.

He had read the stars and ran his way back, the water having had washed away most of his scent. The warm summer air had already dried him off and he had spent hours in the trunk, waiting for someone to return to the car… Harry hadn't really listened much to his story because he had been too engrossed in staring at the way Tom's mouth moved when he talked and relinquishing in the idea that he was not only not alone, Tom was his…

Tom was his Tom. More than he used to be anyway.

Harry was currently sitting on the hood of the car, his legs dangling off the edge and absentmindedly swinging back and forth – childishly, but for once he didn't care because Tom grinned at him and his hand brushed over Harry's bare calves and everything was just so easy and good for him – while he was fixing a tear in one of Tom's shirts. His bottom lip was caught in between his teeth and he tried to focus, honestly, but he couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought that Tom had nibbled on it earlier and that Tom's tongue had danced along his own. He felt a dull ache spread through his neck from where Tom had sucked on a small spot and the other male's eyes almost mischievously flickered to the long column of his throat every now and then. Like he knew a secret Harry wasn't supposed to know.

In a way, Harry didn't even need to know. He was too happy to give a damn about hidden secrets.

When he was done he folded the shirt carefully, its fabric soft and worn. He felt himself smile when Tom's arms wound around him and he wondered if the tall man wanted him just as bad, and if Tom was as happy as Harry himself was. It amazed him how fast it had gone – how they had gone from shared glances and brushing fingertips to downright groping and rutting and kissing and biting.

Either way, Harry wasn't complaining.

Tom nipped at his ear and Harry shivered, pressing himself more into Tom's body.

Harry was aware of the fact that they would have to have a talk soon. He didn't quite understand the relationship between the two of them at all, they needed to talk about the Brotherhood and how they were going to travel from now on – they had already been evading the main roads but it was terribly difficult to see whether or not something was in their territory – and so much more… But right now? Tom made a soft humming noise and his arms reached out to open the car and Harry got in without any complaint, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a knowing smile. Right now everything seemed trivial.

Everything but Tom.

* * *

It was an hour later – maybe longer, maybe shorter? Harry didn't have a clue –when he was laying on his back, tracing his lips with his fingers with a dopey smile on his face, feeling pleasantly warm. His hair was messy and his neck was positively throbbing from the attention it had received. His back was slouching against Tom's chest, his elbows resting on top of his thighs. The skin of his partially bared legs stuck uncomfortably against the leather seats but it was okay.

Everything was fine. Couldn't be more perfect.

The sun seemed to be setting the sky aflame and it was slowly getting dark. Pretty colors were painting the sky in all kinds of shades of purple and blue and pink, clouds floating almost lazily outside. It was like watching a movie and Tom's fingers dancing over his sides made him feel sleepy. His hand dropped from his mouth and he bit his lip, still vaguely tasting Tom.

'Up for a challenge?' Tom questioned suddenly, his voice disturbing the lazy state Harry's body had been sinking into.

'Sure,' he murmured with a yawn. To be honest, he would be perfectly content with staying here in the backseat of this car, just making out with Tom for the rest of his life instead. Tom's long arm extended and Harry followed his finger when it pointed to a lone figure in the distance. It was a zombie and it hadn't spotted them yet. He was wearing a police uniform and was limping – he looked like a new one. Normally they avoided fights (well, Harry did anyway) but when he looked at Tom he could see he had a playful smile on his face.

Oh. So he wanted to play?

'Whomever gets his hat wins,' Tom said. Harry blinked.

'Wins what?' he asked, feeling more awake. His hand was already on his knife and Tom smirked; that was all Harry needed to know. He jumped up and got out of the car and Tom followed him. They started running toward the zombie and it looked up. He heard Tom laughing behind him and forced himself to run faster, knowing a challenge when he got one, and cursing loudly when Tom caught up with him. Tom threw the zombie off its feet and had planted his foot on its chest and the zombie gargled and clawed at Tom's bootclad ankle.

Just when Tom bent down to get the hat, Harry slid over the ground on his knees, gripped it from where it had fallen on the ground, smirked at Tom and ran away again. He heard Tom yell at him ('You little bastard!'), heard how the gargling noises suddenly came to a stop and hid behind a tree with a grin on his face. He had to press a hand against his mouth to keep from laughing or panting, possibly a combination of the two, and he heard Tom's footsteps come in closer. His arms had cradled the hat against his chest.

'Harry, you little shit, when I find you…!' He abruptly stopped talking and Harry blinked, straining his ears to hear. When he heard nothing he counted to ten, but by the time he had counted all the way to twenty still no reply or sound came.

'Tom?' he called, stepping away from the tree. Tom was nowhere to be seen and he swallowed thickly. He cursed and started walking, hearing something rustle in the bushes. His eyes widened and he reached for a knife. Harry's skin almost glowed in the weak light of the setting sun, and long shadows danced over the ground. The trees suddenly didn't look like perfect hiding places anymore now that the silence was ringing into his ears – its tree branches looked like claws, reaching out to grab Harry and…

'Fuck,' he hissed. The rustling became louder and he looked over his shoulder for Tom but he was still nowhere to be seen –  _fuck fuck fuck where was he?_  – and the moment something came out of the bushes Harry turned around and started running for as fast as he could. Tom could be in trouble, he needed to find him first. He released a surprised scream when it connected with his back and he was struggling violently when it turned him around. He nearly stabbed it in the chest before it knocked his knife out of his hands and –  _That fucking bastard._

'You fucking-' punch, '- asshole -' kick, 'Tom Riddle!' Tom's body was shaking in mirth on top of his and Harry aimed a weak punch at his chest again, huffing when Tom leaned down and pressed his face against Harry's chest.

'Oh – you should've seen your face!' Tom said, one arm curling around himself to hold his sides. Harry hoped they hurt like hell.

'It's not funny!' he argued even if there was a smile playing at his lips. Tom snorted and laughed again.

Harry noticed he had never seen Tom laugh like this before. He hooked his leg around Tom's calf to trip him and Tom stopped laughing when he fell on top of Harry. He leaned down without having to be asked to and kissed Harry, and Harry made a muffled noise against his lips before wrapping his arms around him.

Like Harry had said before, kissing Tom was totally awesome.

Harry of course didn't have any experience with kissing anyone else, but Tom's kisses were hungry, demanding, reassuring and making Harry feel wanted and amazing. They had kissed not too long ago yet Harry doubted he would ever get enough of this. Of the amazing need he felt when he was near this man, of how pleased he felt when his affections were returned.

He moaned softly and arched up, that familiar ache between his legs there again, throbbing as if begging for something Harry couldn't quite understand. All he knew was that ever since kissing Tom was something he was allowed to do it had been happening more and more often. And they should probably go back to the car, it was getting colder after all and that was when they came out but shamefully the mere thought of being seen while doing this only spurred Harry on more. Tom's thigh came in contact with his crotch and Harry abruptly broke the kiss and moved away, panting and heart hammering in his chest. Tom's eyes were dark, the familiar blue color almost completely disappeared by his dilated pupils.

'Tom,' he said helplessly, uselessly. He didn't know what to do. He just hoped he hadn't weirded Tom out or anything like that and it came as a real fucking surprise when Tom leaned forward and pressed against his swollen manhood.

'F-Fuck! Don't, you're making it worse!' Harry exclaimed and he stumbled backwards again. The dead dry fallen leaves felt sticky against his sweaty hands and he winced when a twig dug into the tender flesh of his wrist. Tom hummed and gripped his arm, pulling him in close and kissing him again. Harry made a muffled noise, hips instinctively rocking against Tom. Only when he heard the sound of a zipper did he realize Tom was actually reaching into Harry's pants and he mewed –  _God since when did he start making those noises and were they actually his to begin with?_ – and felt his cheeks burn with shame now that it was finally bared to Tom's eyes. He didn't have to see to know that Tom's eyes were lingering on it – that Tom was too aware of how hard Harry's cock was, how it curved slightly upwards, how the flushed head seemed to bob with every heartbeat and how Harry's balls were drawn tight. The silence was unbearable and the feel of Tom's breathing made Harry's head swim.

'Am I sick?' Harry finally asked frantically, feeling he should explain or at least try to save himself out of this, keep from disgusting Tom by explaining it just wasn't his fault, 'it swells up and sometimes white stuff comes out of it and oh God I'm infected aren't I? It's gonna fall off and I'm never gonna be able to pee again and then -'

'Are you serious?' Tom asked. Harry nodded and watched in dread when Tom pressed his face against his thigh. For a moment he thought Tom was crying with the way his shoulders were shaking but he realized Tom was actually laughing.

He was fucking laughing at Harry. Again.

'What the hell is so funny?' Harry snapped. His voice had an almost hysterical tone to it. 'I'm gonna die and you're just-'

'Harry, no,' Tom said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, 'Didn't your parents teach you?'

'About what?'

'About sex of course,' he explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'What the hell is that?'

The amusement immediately died down in Tom's eyes. He sat up straighter.

'You're… joking, right?' he said. Harry supposed he should feel accomplished at having managed to finally shut up Tom but all he felt was shame. Was this something he was supposed to know about? His cheeks burned and he turned his head to the side, not capable of looking Tom in the eye right now. Sure, kissing him was great and he had the tiniest inkling what sex was about but… Harry noticed with vague, bitter amusement that his cock was softening. Maybe he should get humiliated more often.

'Hey, come here,' Tom murmured. Harry sat up a bit closer, feeling Tom press a soft kiss against his temple. 'I'm sorry, I should've known. You were so young when I found you…' It felt like a blow to Harry's pride, somehow.

'Can't you just tell me?' Harry said, wincing when his cock twitched in Tom's hand as Tom's other hand ghosted over his ribs underneath Harry's shirt.

'Later,' Tom promised him, 'I'll show you how to get rid of this first, alright?' He pressed his thumb into the head and Harry gasped.

'No – it goes away on its own,' Harry argued. He didn't want Tom to feel obliged to do anything and he didn't want Tom to hurt him.

Tom hummed. 'But it leaves you unsatisfied,' he said, kissing down to the corner of Harry's mouth, unbuttoning his shorts further, pushing them down to remain at his thighs and trapping them together.

'Doesn't yours ever – oh…' Harry's lids fluttered shut and he shivered when Tom squeezed him because yeah, that definitely felt amazing, '…g-get like that?' Tom's skin felt rough on his own sensitive skin and he pulled and tugged in the most amazing, torturous way that made Harry twitch and writhe. It was incredibly dirty and intimate and it amazed him that he actually let Tom do this to him, for him.

'Hmm,' Tom hummed, 'you have no idea.'

'Isn't it bad?' Harry gasped and he mentally applauded himself at having been capable of forming a proper sentence. It seemed like a huge accomplishment at the moment, given the pleasure slowly spreading through his body, making him feel on edge and wonderful.

'The only bad thing about it is that we haven't taken care of it together yet,' Tom assured him and Harry instantly believed him. Indeed, why hadn't they done this before? Tom swallowed Harry's other questions with a deep kiss that made Harry's toes curl, and the teen cried out when Tom squeezed his cock again.

'How does that feel?' the elder male asked him. Harry shook his head. He didn't know – it felt really sensitive in a weird way, but it didn't necessarily hurt, it just… it made him ache? Somehow? Ache for more?

'Weird,' Harry finally said, panting a bit when Tom carefully stroked him. Up and down, up and down... Never had Harry been more aware of a movement of another person before. He felt like he was completely exposed. Like he was completely at his mercy and Tom just kept watching him, kept driving him mad. 'Can I see yours?' Something in Tom's eyes darkened, but he didn't comply. Harry whined. 'Please, I just… need to know if – if….'

'You know I can't afford lying to you,' Tom said in a low voice. And it was right – Tom had lied to him the first couple of years when they travelled together and that had only caused them to distrust each other and forced them into sticky situations. Still…

'Why can't you show me?' Harry whined, 'I won't touch, I just need to see if- if…'

'Hush, Harry.'

Tom's hand sped up and Harry shamefully was all too aware of the constant drag of Tom's rough hand over his cock, the way it fit into Tom's hand… his eyes slipped shut and he moaned, slumping more into Tom, his hips thrusting up in need. It was like the pressure in him was building, his body going taut, he was going to burst any minute and it was glorious, absolutely amazing but it felt horrible as well.

There was no way this was normal. Or good for his health – no matter how good it felt right now.

'Oh God Tom please stop-' he felt like he was going to lose his fucking mind, and he wasn't sure if it hurt or not but fuck it just felt so good at the same time and-

'Are you close?'

'Fuck I'm right here what are you talking about-' Harry helplessly gasped. Tom must've sensed it, because he placed his hand on Harry's stomach.

'Where do you feel it? Here?' Harry nodded, and _oh god holy shit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuc_ k- Whatever he had been close to, it was fucking perfect. It felt like jumping off a high building and riding a bike for the first time and he was drowning but it was the best fucking feeling ever and Harry felt drowsy once it was over. His body had never felt this lax before. It was okay. Everything was sort of okay, and sort of cool, and things were alright.

Also, Tom smelt really nice – oh wait, Tom was still there. Right.

'- Harry? Are you alright?' His vision was blurry, but the smile didn't fade off his face. Had he worried about nothing all this time and had Tom been capable of fixing it all along? Harry now sort of hoped his manhood would grow hard again, just so he could feel that again and – why was Tom so calm? Didn't he feel this too?

'Are you passing out?'

Harry blinked up at him. Tom's eyes were almost shockingly blue in this light, dark flecks of inky blue sprinkled in a circle around his slightly dilated pupil, which had a tight ring of turquoise around it. Tom's lashes were dark and his eyebrows were arched, not in concern but amusement and it just made Harry feel a huge wave of affection.

Or maybe just a hint of pride at seeing how Tom's lips were swollen and his hair was slightly tousled from making out with Harry.

'Have your eyes always been this blue?' he asked absentmindedly.

Tom laughed and pressed a kiss against Harry's forehead. 'I'll try talking to you when you get back down to earth.'

'Hmm. Tom?'

'Yes?'

'You seriously have like, amazing eyes.'

* * *

For a couple of weeks, life couldn't have been better.

Harry was finally capable of doing the things he always wanted with Tom, Tom kept giving him orgasms (Harry still didn't quite understand what they were but they were great so it was cool with him) and Harry's hand was healing. It was no longer swollen and although it hurt to move it too much, Harry now knew it would be okay again. He still couldn't fight much – running with a sling was awkward and his hand was still useless, so he settled for shooting zombies from afar while Tom was fighting them. They hadn't heard much from the Brotherhood in weeks. Besides the spray-painted messages on the road signs.

_Where art thou, Thomas?_

_We will find you_

_You won't get far_

The messages were often mocking or downright threatening and the worst about this all was that it made it trickier for Tom and Harry to travel. The Brotherhood had the main roads in their control and they were looking for Tom and Harry – Harry had no idea how they had known they had survived but he felt like they had been spotted somehow. Like someone had seen the two of them and had told the Brotherhood.

Tom and Harry had decided to travel by foot after they ran out of gas – Tom wanted to steal a motorcycle but they would have to go to another town in order to find one that actually worked. Motorcycles were easier to travel by on the smaller roads, roads that weren't the Brotherhood's.

There was a certain security at holding Tom's hand that Harry didn't fully comprehend. He knew Tom was only holding it because Harry constantly tripped over tree branches since he was too busy staring at Tom's face, but that was beside the point. There was just a sheer sense of belonging, of having a place and purpose in this world when he was with Tom. Like he wasn't fighting to stay alive just to survive another thing, this repeating itself in an endless circle.

Like he meant something.

Underneath their feet twigs snapped and the ground crunched but they kept trudging forward. They had to to remain unseen and going through the woods was the only way they wouldn't be discovered by anyone. No one was stupid enough to risk their lives for a simple walk in nature, after all. How they were going to steal a motorcycle was something Harry couldn't even begin thinking about.

Tom hadn't said anything in a long time but his face was relaxed so Harry figured it wasn't a bad thing. Tom didn't look like he was thinking about anything serious in particular – maybe he was just enjoying the silence or maybe he was just like Harry too strung on the feeling of skin against his own.

Even if Tom didn't allow Harry to touch him more than that.

It was something that had only recently started bothering him. Ever since Harry got, well, used to orgasms (or like Tom said, 'coming' which was weird because where did Harry arrive if he came?) he had wanted to return the favor for as weird as it was. He knew it felt amazing and he wanted to share the feeling. It was clear enough to Harry that it was extremely intimate and that it wasn't something one would normally do with other people, but… didn't Tom want to come as well?

Harry sucked on his bottom lip in thought, his elbow awkwardly bumping into Tom's side when he nearly tripped over his shoelaces. Tom stopped walking and glanced at him before he bent down and started tying Harry's shoelaces for him. The tips of Harry's ears felt warm but it wasn't because it bothered him that Tom was doing this for him. It was because Tom was staring at him like that, and when Tom was finished he pressed a soft kiss against Harry's thigh just because he could and slowly moved up, pressing a kiss against Harry's hip, his flat stomach, the center of his chest, his throat, his chin…

Harry shivered when Tom finally pressed a kiss against his mouth and he started moving his lips. He had picked up on what Tom liked pretty fast – had learned that Tom would  _purr_ when he'd suck on his lower lip and graze his teeth over it in just the slightest bit, that Tom's collarbones were sensitive, and that…

Harry's hands brushed over the bulge in Tom's pants and Tom carefully moved his hands away.

…and that Tom never allowed Harry's hands to wander too far. Harry released a soft huff in frustration and shivered when Tom's hands brushed over his ass, making him cling to his shoulders and rock back into it.

'Like that, love?' Tom asked, his voice a low murmur. Harry nodded and rocked himself against the thigh lodged in between his shaky legs, already aching for some sort of release.

It had been a while since anyone had used terms of endearment to refer to him. He liked it – liked how easy it seemed to accept it and liked how it reminded him of home where he had been sweetheart and buddy and mate. It reminded him of the fact that they weren't just two people now, they were one couple. Maybe Harry was looking too much into this. The fact that he was able to do this with Tom after wanting to for so long still hadn't quite sunk in.

His own self-control surprised him when he pushed Tom's hands away.

'Don't be a brat,' Tom said. He tried again and Harry pushed him away again, a bit more firmly. He frowned and licked his lips, still tasting Tom on his tongue.

'Why can't I touch yours?' Harry lamented. He had meant for it to sound snappy but he realized he almost sounded like he was whining and it makes his cheeks feel hot. Tom ran a hand through his hair and cursed, stepping closer and into Harry's personal space again. The teen shivered and licked his dry lips but stood his ground.

'Harry,' Tom murmured, 'it's not that I don't want you to.'

Harry blinked up at him. 'Then why…?'

Blue eyes studied his face for a while as if calculating whether or not Harry was worthy of the truth. Harry stubbornly lifted his chin and gazed up at Tom, who brushed his knuckles over his cheek. Harry's arousal hadn't ebbed away just yet and his skin tingled pleasantly from where Tom's had touched it.

'There's something about you that always makes me lose control,' Tom confessed. It wasn't very clear what he was aiming at but Harry knew it took Tom a lot to say these things. The tall male never had been very fond of the prospect of opening up.

'Lose control over what?' Harry asked softly, patiently. Through all these years he had learned it was best not to pressure Tom, but he wanted them to… to what, exactly? He didn't know, but he just wanted Tom to trust him with not only his body, but his secrets. He didn't know much about Tom's childhood but he had always hoped that he would find out, one day. In an act of sheer boldness he reached forward and cupped Tom through his pants again, hearing him hiss. Harry's cheeks were still warm and he felt his own manhood twitch and he didn't know why but he just wanted to see Tom, feel the silky head of his cock, trace the veins on the base of it.

He just wanted Tom. All of him. And the fact that it was so close yet he was being constantly denied of it was cruel.

'I won't let you touch me anymore if you won't let me touch you,' Harry added in a quiet threat, one he knew he wouldn't manage to keep in the end. But it seemed to convince Tom enough because he groaned and thrust himself into Harry's hand.

'I just know that as soon as you touch me I won't want to stop,' Tom ground out when Harry tightened his grip. Harry halted and blinked up at him.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It means that I want to fuck you,' Harry's eyes widened and Tom sneered, gripping the back of Harry's neck and kissing him so hard he knocked him off his feet. Had just this bit of coaxing made Tom snap like that, Harry wondered, or was it just that Tom had been too stressed for too long? They had yet to discuss how long they had been feeling this way and Harry doubted they would. Why linger on the past when the future was that much brighter?

Harry released a muffled noise when his back hit the ground and the earthy scent of rain hit his senses, his skin prickling because of the fallen leaves and twigs brushing up against it.

'T-Then fuck me,' Harry stammered between kisses even if he didn't know what it exactly meant, 'fuck me and-'

'You have absolutely no idea what you're asking from me,' Tom almost growled into his ear, his hips thrusting into Harry's and creating a delicious friction that made Harry's head spin. He mewed and closed his eyes, his back arching. 'Do you?'

No, he did not. He knew the word, had used it a lot to curse – God his mom would've smacked him with a table spoon if she would've heard the way he spoke every now and then – but he didn't know the act of fucking. It sounded so crude in his own ears, just like killing did. It sounded so blunt. Like it didn't involve feelings, planning, preparation. It was just an act.

'Does- oh – it matter?'

Tom fumbled with Harry's pants and this time Harry let him, and when the teen reached out and fumbled with Tom's belt Tom let him as well. It seemed to take forever before the tall male was finally bared to him and Harry shivered when he finally saw Tom's shaft, feeling a bit intimidated by the size and width of it. His thumb and index finger would barely meet if he would wrap his hand around it.

It was fat and had thick veins running over it, its head not pink like Harry's but darker than the rest of Tom's skin. A bead of fluid was at the slit and Harry was too aroused to think anything but  _dear God thank you I'm not sick_  because this was really the best confirmation he could get. Tom was taking in Harry's expression very carefully and he hissed when Harry brushed his fingertips over it.

'It means that I'm going to shove my cock into your ass,' Tom said and Harry jumped, almost having forgotten Tom could talk as well. He tore his eyes off Tom's cock – _God, but it was a wonderful cock and for some reason he just wanted to hold it and feel its weight and heat in his hand and trace all those veins covering it_ – and licked his dry lips.

Inside of him? Was that actually possible? Harry's mouth opened and closed and he didn't know what to say, wasn't sure if he could answer if he could. He almost experimentally clenched his entrance on thin air and suddenly he could picture it – picture himself face down right now with his ass in the air while Tom would just touch his manhood, his nipples, and then shove his own fat cock inside of him… He moaned at the mere thought of it and a bead of precome slid out of the slit of his cock, making him whine in need.

'Do it,' he pleaded. Tom groaned.

'No,' Tom said, 'you're not even eighteen, if you're going to regret it-'

'Shut the fuck up and fuck me already,' Harry interrupted him and he actually had the nerve to squeeze Tom's manhood tightly in his fist, making the elder male hiss. He dug his teeth into Harry's neck as if to punish him and Harry moaned, his hand clumsily jerking Tom off. It felt strange to touch this part of Tom's anatomy this deliberately without any restriction, even stranger to jerk off without feeling pleasure, but it was so very painfully arousing, 'Please, fuck me, put it in me, I want it -'

Harry's mouth kept moving a bit in a weak attempt to form words even after Tom kissed him again, even harder than before, their teeth clinking together almost painfully. He whined when Tom pinned his hands above his head but kept them there even after Tom released his wrists, feeling him grip his hips and pull him up into his lap. Harry ground down on Tom without giving it much thought and he wrapped his arms around Tom's head, cradling it against his chest while Tom was sucking and nipping at his collarbone.

Harry vaguely wondered what they looked like. It felt animalistic and undoubtedly it looked like that as well – he was rutting against Tom desperately and he moaned shamelessly when Tom's hand wrapped around both their cocks and pressed them together.

'- no idea what you're doing to me, you're killing me, you're mine and I'm never letting you go-'

Tom was practically babbling a frenzy of words that Harry couldn't quite catch, his mouth falling open in a soundless gasp when Tom's free hand gripped his ass. His nails dug into the thick fabric of his jeans and Harry wished he was naked, wished he could press his entire body against Tom's without anything between them and without being stopped by the elder male.

He had never considered his ass as anything remotely sexual. But it was almost painfully clear to him that Tom had.

'Close,' he murmured, fucking the tight ring that was Tom's fist, his mouth pressing against Tom's temple. Tom groaned and squeezed him once, twice, as if teasing him.

And it was all Harry could take.

Harry was unsure if it was his own inexperience or if Tom just had a lot of stamina but either way, he came long before Tom did and his come coated Tom's hand. He stared at it in a strange fascination while his entire body seemed to slump into Tom's and didn't even think twice before sucking his digits into his own mouth, curious at the taste.

'Fuck,' Tom breathed, Harry's hand shaky around his cock as he tried his best to work him to completion as well, 'like that? Like sucking my fingers off like that?' Harry made a soft noise, eyes halflidded from his orgasm. He looked up at Tom, staring at the way he was utterly debauched, how wrecked he looked and how Harry had been the one to do that to him.

And the idea that came over him was mad. Absolutely insane. But he couldn't help but wonder…

He released Tom's fingers and Tom watched him, almost daring him to do just something and Harry did. He crawled off Tom's lap, his thighs still quivering, and pressed a kiss against the head of Tom's cock. Tom's eyes widened as if he hadn't seen it coming and Harry had no clue if what he was doing was unheard of or if it was pretty common but either way he sucked the head into his mouth and ran a few kittenish licks over the slit before tracing a couple of veins with his tongue. The corners of his mouth felt stretched already and he sunk down, trying his best to take as much as he could.

Tom just lost it. He grabbed the back of Harry's head and groaned, fucking his face, using his mouth for all it was worth. Harry tried his best to keep it as wide open as possible and tried to keep his teeth from grazing over his sensitive skin, a mixture of saliva and precome dribbling from his lips.

It was insane. But so goddamn arousing and he could feel his own cock twitch almost pitifully, wanting to get hard again.

A loud string of curses escaped Tom's lips again and he finally came – a salty fluid spurted from his cock into his mouth. Harry had half the heart to spit it out just to see if it was the same color as his own had been (even if Tom's tasted a bit stronger) but he could just swallow, hearing Tom groan and feeling him slip from Harry's mouth. He pulled Harry up and Harry slumped over him, having no problem being used as a pillow at all. He sighed when Tom pressed a hungry, passionate kiss against his lips.

Sometimes, Harry thought Tom was trying to kill him.

Harry's back hit the ground when Tom put more of his weight on him and they broke apart with a final nipping kiss. Harry's stomach still felt funny and he shivered when Tom tucked him back into his pants, liking how Tom had absolutely no problems with using Harry as a pillow as well. Harry dragged his hand through Tom's hair, his chest no longer rapidly rising and falling with every breath he took.

'When… when's my birthday?' Harry murmured. Even if the knowledge that they couldn't stay here for too long was clear to the both of them, he felt like he could fall asleep any minute now. Tom glanced up at him from where he had been resting his head on Harry's chest. His eyebrows seemed to knit together and he sighed.

'Tomorrow,' he murmured. He pressed a kiss against Harry's chest and pushed himself up and Harry's body felt almost abandoned with the lack of Tom's weight upon it. Harry felt like he was made to keep Tom's body warm, or at least in this moment. He noted with vague, perhaps morbid, fascination and satisfaction that his mouth still tasted of Tom. 'I haven't had the chance to-'

'I want you to fuck me, for my birthday.' It was out before he knew it and he could feel his cheeks grow dark. Tom looked at him in surprise before he dropped his head on the center of Harry's chest again, groaning.

'You can't just say these things. You're going to give me a heart attack some day.'

Harry huffed.

'I'm serious.'

'I know,' Tom replied, his voice a bit muffled from where his mouth was pressed against Harry's shirt. A silence fell upon them before Tom got up. Harry followed his example, pressing his mouth against Tom's collarbone because he couldn't reach any higher and then holding his hand out for Tom to take. Tom blinked, and then snorted as if he couldn't believe Harry was asking him to hold his hand. He gripped it anyway.

Funny how they went from chasing rabbits to this.

* * *

It was 20 minutes later when Harry happily swung their hands back and forth in between them, enjoying how Tom's fingers folded completely over the back of his hand. His other hand throbbed a bit in his sling but that was nothing new. The pain was duller than it used to be though and Harry could now move his fingers a bit again. Tom said it was best if he were to keep the sling on for about 3 weeks or so, just to be sure.

The smile faded off Harry's face when he caught sight of the faded scar on Tom's neck.

Still, even if he felt safe right now, he knew they were far from it. They had that conversation already; they had discussed everything they needed to. Harry was now… Tom's boyfriend, for as much as he found the word strange and foreign on his lips, and Tom was Harry's boyfriend as well. They had discussed most of what Harry had wanted them to.

But Harry still had so many questions. He knew why they were running for the Brotherhood – they wanted to hurt them. Which sucked because they totally outnumbered Tom and Harry no matter how strong or fast or intelligent they were. But why was the Brotherhood so bad, or better yet, why did they chase Tom and Harry? Why hadn't they just killed Harry after dumping Tom in the woods? It just hadn't made any sense to Harry and it still didn't. And he really didn't want to ruin Tom's good mood right now, because it was hard to get Tom to smile the way he did now when he looked down at Harry, but he couldn't help himself. He opened his mouth, ready to form a question, before he closed it again with a frustrated sigh.

He didn't even know where to start now that he knew that he would… His eyebrows knitted together in thought and he absentmindedly traced circles on Tom's knuckles with his thumb, his eyes staring at the ground again.

'Something wrong?' Tom asked him, his voice sounding patient and good-natured. Harry glanced up at him. It would be so easy to shake his head, smile and continue walking. It was what he used to do, before they had gotten… like this. Not only did Harry still have questions about how it could be that they were attracted to each other, when they were both very male, but it came to his attention that he really didn't know much about Tom as a person.

Fine – he knew Tom's favorite color was green and he knew Tom's birthday and that he used to be a huge fan of Italian food, but those were the small things. He didn't even know the name of Tom's mother.

Tom stopped walking and brushed a hand over Harry's face.

'Harry?' he asked. It was quiet around them – it appeared safe. But it wasn't. He hoped they would find a safe place to stay before night fell, otherwise they'd have to climb a tree and wait for morning to come.

'Tom, why is the Brotherhood so bad?' he asked, finally, 'aren't they human like us?'

His question seemed to surprise Tom and he was certain Tom had been expecting a different question or maybe none at all. Maybe he thought Harry had been thinking about his parents. He had been doing that a lot lately, admittedly.

'Didn't your parents ever teach you not all people are good ?' Tom said after a moment of silence, but his voice held no bite. If anything, he just sounded calm, informative. 'They're Christian.'

Harry felt himself frown. What was what supposed to mean?

'So what?' Harry asked, 'I mean even if we don't share the same beliefs-'

'No, you don't understand – they're  _radical_ Christians. Do you even have any idea what Christians believe in?'

Harry's frown darkened while he mulled that over. His parents never had been very religious – they had believed in science, things that could be explained. Harry had heard people praying before, knew the story of Jesus and Moses and all that stuff, but… no, he hadn't really studied it or anything like that.

'God?' he asked stupidly. Tom started walking again after nodding, pulling Harry down when he nearly hit his head against a low tree branch.

'They're the most racist, homophobic, small minded group of people I've ever gotten in touch with.' Tom's voice was certain and there was no doubt that Tom firmly believed what he said.

'But we're white-'

'Harry. Honestly.'Tom stopped walking.

'Don't you know that -' he cut himself off. 'No, of course you don't…'

'What? What don't I know?'

Tom sighed and raised their joined hands. 'See this?' he asked, and Harry slowly nodded. He did see it, he had been acutely aware of it all the time. Of how Tom's skin felt against his, of what those hands could do to him, how he had fallen apart at them earlier… in a way, it was extremely intimate to be holding someone's hand. These were hands that had killed before and wouldn't hesitate to do so again, and the same went for his own hands. Tom's hands were rough and large, fitting into Harry's perfectly. Almost innocently. 'This is not okay in the eyes of most Christians.'

Harry glanced up at Tom. So far, this conversation had only confused him more and more, but he was glad Tom wasn't irritated by his questions and it made him feel more confident to continue asking questions. He was going to take whatever Tom was willing to give him. 'What? Holding hands?'

'Two  _men_ holding hands. They hate homosexuality along with a thousand other things and they support the infected.' Tom paused and Harry let it sink into him. He didn't understand at all and Tom must've sensed it. His grip on Harry's hand tightened. 'Do you hear what I am saying, Harry? The Brotherhood supports who killed your family because they believe that they are here to clean this world of people who are sinners. People like us – people who don't believe in a book that states you can kill your own mother if she wears two different threads.'

Harry's eyes widened, and Tom dropped their hands. He started walking again.

'Why didn't you tell me before?' Harry finally asked, too shocked to say anything else. Tom shrugged.

'How do you tell a child that there are people who kill others because they're different? You went through enough already.'

'But Ginny had been wearing a cross -'

'Not all Christians are like this,' Tom agreed, 'some are good people. Do you remember that last town we stayed at?'

Harry nodded, vaguely remembering the man asking Tom about his home, the man and the little girl and Ginny... The entire conversation was confusing the living hell out of him. He didn't know what Tom was trying to get at at all.

'They were all Christians. Some want to do good. Some just want to save humanity. And some…' Tom trailed off as if he tried to find the right words. It was obvious to Harry that Tom did not believe that all of those people were wrong, with reason. Before they had met the Brotherhood, Christians had been the only ones willing to help them. 'Some just want to see people suffer because they are not what a book, an idea wants them to be.'

Harry thought about this for a long time. He was too aware of how Tom seemed angry while telling this, of how his hand had tightened on Harry's.

Harry had always known it was stupid to believe in stereotypes. Not all girls were wimpy and whiny, he had learned that from getting his ass kicked by a girl when he had tried to steal some bread a few years ago, not all Muslims had been terrorists when the world had been normal and he didn't believe right now that Christians were all like this. So hateful, with such a strange way to see the world and the way other people should be.

There were good ones, too, people who were clinging onto religion to find reason to live, not to use it as a reason to harm others. Harry had always respected people like that – had found that they were strong for being able to just put their complete trust in a higher power. Who was he to judge when their God was all that kept them going?

Still, it dawned in on Harry that Gods did not kill people. The Brotherhood was a strong example of how people with Gods did kill.

'…There were other people like us?' he finally asked. It was completely irrelevant, but he couldn't help but wonder. When he had been just a boy he had never seen two men walk hand in hand, never seen them steal a kiss. The angry look slid of Tom's face for a moment when he glanced over his shoulder at Harry.

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Men who… who didn't like women? Like that?'

Tom didn't reply to it for a long time and Harry thought that he wouldn't reply at all. But then he slowly nodded.

'Yes,' he replied softly, patiently, understanding that there was no way Harry could have known, 'there were. Plenty.'

'You're saying that like they all got killed,' Harry said even though it did make sense. Homosexuality – that was the word right? – didn't seem to be very common and there weren't many people left…

'They were,' Tom said. His grip tightened on Harry's hand. 'People started killing them along with murderers, rapists, drug addicts, people with mental disorders, atheists, the disabled… like they were nothing but filthy animals. Gellert Grindelwald started it – claiming that if all sinners, all _mistakes_ would die, this would all end. That if we would clean the world those creatures would disappear and humanity could live on. And people believed him in the beginning. We were all so desperate to survive…'

Tom did not continue but Harry understood anyway. An icy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

'Creatures,' he parroted to himself. He suddenly thought of mothers and fathers and children, innocent people getting killed for being different… he stumbled, and Tom straightened him up before walking again. 'Why didn't you believe them? Your parents must've-'

Tom suddenly turned around and Harry gulped at the dangerous look in his eyes.

' _Never_  talk about my parents,' Tom hissed and Harry could just wordlessly nod, too shocked to defy him. Harry had always been aware of their height difference but now Tom just towered over him and even if Harry steadied himself and didn't blush or stutter or even blink it was completely clear to him that although Tom was his boyfriend right now, rules of the old world didn't apply to anyone anymore. If they hurt each other no one would know or care.

Harry swallowed thickly and took a step forward right into Tom's personal space as if daring him to do anything about it. If the moment should ever come, Harry knew he wouldn't hesitate to fight Tom no matter how much it would hurt him or how it would crush his heart.

Living without Tom would be torture, killing Tom would be something he would live to regret for the rest of his life but dying by Tom's hand was no option. He wouldn't let Tom do that to the both of them. He knew that if he would die and Tom would be left behind by himself, the world would be an even darker place and that was not because Harry thought himself to be a hero. It was because he was the only one who kept Tom from doing things that would destroy all that was human inside of himself.

It was like the lazy happiness that had spread through Harry was completely stolen away from him right now. He was straining to keep from saying anything stupid because he really didn't want to mess their thing up - it was precious to him. The darkness in Tom's eyes was still there when Harry stood so close the tips of their toes brushed and Tom sneered, but he wasn't looking at Harry when he did that.

It came to Harry's notice that Tom surprisingly wasn't mad at him, like he had thought before.

It took him a moment to figure it out, but it were Tom's parents who angered him. It had been the mere mention of them that had brought all of those unresolved emotions back to the surface.

Harry reached out and brushed his fingers over Tom's hand, a silent reminder of what they had, who they were now. He could go on and on about why he liked Tom's hands, or just Tom, so he wouldn't start again. Instead he tried to focus on his own selfless desire to make Tom at ease again.

'I'm sorry I went too far,' Harry said. He didn't feel like he was apologizing for asking a question - he was apologizing for bringing up things that obviously bothered the tall male. Tom's eyes averted back to him and he released a soft sigh, his breath fanning over Harry's face. He smiled and Tom seemed to relax a bit at the sight of it, and that pleased Harry. 'It's my birthday tomorrow. C'mon, I wanna wake up in a bed for once.' His grip on Tom's hand tightened and he started walking. Tom hesitated before he started walking as well.

The rest of their walk was in silence and when they reached a deserted cabin and double checked the area and set up traps a couple of hours later, they shared a single lingering kiss that was neither reassuring or nerve wrecking. Tom appeared to be calmed down enough to be polite and sarcastic again and it did Harry good, though his boyfriend's eyebrows were twisted in a dark scowl when he thought Harry wasn't looking.

Something told Harry their conversation was far from over.


	7. And Other Poison Devils

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 7

_**'And Other Poison Devils'** _

_'Tom!'_

_Tom paused from where he had been running back to the car, a twelve year old Harry Potter staring at him with scared, wide eyes. He was clutching his little knee in his hands, scraped up from where he had tripped. Tom heard the grunts of the infected in the background – if the child didn't get up soon he'd be dead._

_Ever since he had taken the _child_ with him he had been nothing but trouble. Always slowing him down, always whining about his parents and practically clinging onto Tom… It'd be so easy to leave the snotty brat behind. Why shouldn't he?_

_Harry sniffled and Tom sneered in frustration._

_It wouldn't make any difference anyway. Just another child who'd die because of what the virus had done to humanity. He was disposable. Useless. No one would miss him and maybe Tom'd be doing him a favor by letting him die and putting a stop to his suffering. He heard the _child_ cry in his sleep, alright. Heard him scream and sob and whimper and felt him clutching Tom's shirt when he thought Tom was asleep._

_Weakling._

_Tom took another step to the car, hearing Harry scream his name once more. His voice was tinged with desperation and Tom knew that as soon as he would turn around he would give in again. So why did he still do it? What was it about this mere child that had made Tom want to take him with him in the first place?_

_'Tom please! My leg hurts – help me!'_

_Tom didn't know and it bothered him._

_He glanced over his shoulder and saw the zombies were only a couple of feet away, their arms outstretched, mouths ready to sink into the boy's tender flesh. Harry was whimpering and tried to scramble to his feet, but he tripped again and fell flat on his face. It was like watching a lamb in a lion's den._

_Tom cursed and turned around, cocking his gun and raising it. Tom shot one infected and Harry yelled in surprise, sniveling and whimpering while Tom wasted more bullets on the other infected. Because that was what he was doing, wasn't it? Wasting time and precious bullets on a child he had no ties with._

_It wasn't like Tom to do this. Tom was no hero. Tom should be considered the villain – so then why did he even consider coming back for Harry an option? Tom gripped Harry's arm so tightly the boy cried out in pain (surely it would bruise, the child bruised too easily), cursing when the boy's legs buckled beneath him._

_'This is the last time, Harry!' Tom snapped at the cowering boy. Another group of zombies were getting closer and Harry sobbed, body pliant when Tom picked him up. His thin arms wrapped around Tom's neck and his legs went around Tom's waist. Tom did not have the time to stop and think about how underfed the boy was – from refusing to eat, stupid petulant child he was – and started running again, his hands cupping Harry's bum to support his weight._

_Even so, no matter how cruel his words were, Harry clung onto him like he was his last lifeline. Tom knew Harry would've died a horrible, brutal death if he hadn't saved him. A sick part of himself gained satisfaction from that too, to know that another person was completely dependent of him. To know that he was so strong that he could keep two lives intact in this world where even the most clever of men had easily fallen, perished._

_Tom got into the car and Harry hiccupped, the whites of his eyes bloodshot and clashing with his vivid green irises. He was still clinging onto Tom, his short nails even digging into the back of Tom's neck._

_'Get off,' Tom commanded him after a moment of silence, a moment of shared something in their eyes. Sometimes there was that, too - that feeling that the boy could look straight into his soul. It was unnerving and fucking annoying. Harry gulped and nodded, climbing off Tom's lap and onto the passenger's seat. Tom started up the car just in time and started driving, not a word uttered between the two of them for a long time._

_Harry was hugging his knees to his chest, his glasses askew and his hair a tangled mess. It somehow played at Tom's heartstrings, to see the younger boy huddled up like this. Sometimes it was difficult for Tom to understand that other people had feelings as well, that they weren't just made of the stupidity that Tom hated them for. He drove the car to a halt and sighed, leaning back in his seat._

_'Tom?' the boy asked. His voice cracked – he was barely a teenager. Barely old enough to even understand what was all going on in this world. Last week he'd probably just been a kid, playing with his friends in his backyard while his mom was baking them cookies…_

_'Come here,' Tom murmured. He had brought the boy with him for a reason after all, even if he didn't quite know his purpose just yet, might as well make sure he wasn't falling apart all the time. Harry took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes, stubbornly. He was still quivering._

_Tom reached over in the backseat and got a bottle of water, tearing a strip of cloth from his shirt. Harry watched him carefully, sniffling again. Harry squeezed his eyes shut tightly when Tom reached over to touch him, as though he was expecting Tom to hit him._

_'It's okay,' Tom assured him though it wasn't. Water was precious and now they'd have to find a river again to refill on that. Tom supposed it was worth the boy's trust, though. He poured some water over the cloth and it dripped off his fingers – he used it to dab gently at Harry's knee. Harry winced, but he kept still, his eyes trained on Tom. Tom glanced up at him and Harry looked away again, the blush on his cheeks barely noticeable with all the dirt and grit and tear tracks covering it._

_He was pretty, that much was clear to Tom, but Harry had never been a sexual target of his. He was too young – Tom had been stupid. Hadn't been thinking when he had taken the boy with him._

_Instinct, he reckoned. He had been acting on instinct a lot and he wondered if it were any side effects. Come to think of it he had been more aggressive than usual as well... Once Harry's knee was clean he found Harry's ankle was sprained. Figured. Releasing the slender limb Tom made to pull away, but the boy's hand reached out to grab his wrist, keeping him from doing so. Tom glanced at Harry, his eyebrow lifting when the boy smiled hesitantly._

_It was the first time Harry had smiled at him and it pulled at his heartstrings, a strange need and want coming over him. It was odd because Tom really never had felt attracted to children before. He hated children, actually. Always so needy and whiny, just like women often were when they didn't receive the kind of attention they wanted..._

_But in a few years the boy would be old enough. If Tom would put a bit of effort and time into it, he'd be strong and worthy of standing by his side._

_'Thank you,' Harry whispered. Tom just nodded tensely and started driving again, too aware of the boy's eyes trained on his face._

* * *

When Harry woke up he was still alone.

His fingers slid over the mattress as if seeking someone next to him nevertheless, and his eyes remained shut for a couple of seconds as well. He tried to allow his body to fully awaken - a luxury he didn't very often was granted. It was almost a challenge to him. Relaxing wasn't one of his strongest points especially on a day like this.

Today was his birthday. Only one more year left until Harry could call himself a legal adult.

If laws still counted nowadays, anyway.

'Tom?' he asked rather uselessly, knowing that his boyfriend wouldn't be there. His voice was hoarse and his lips felt dry. He must have slept with his mouth open again.

In the beginning of it all Harry had always been upset on his birthday. Everything reminded him of homemade cake and lit candles and nicely wrapped up presents waiting to be unpacked in the presence of family and friends. Harry had come to dread this day but as the years passed it faded away, replaced by a somewhat giddy feeling.

He heard footsteps and he strained his ears to listen, quickly identifying them to be Tom's by the heavy thunks and the speed of them. He relaxed into the mattress again. Before going to bed they had washed themselves by the river and Tom had promised him to come to bed soon but he hadn't come at all. Harry wondered if Tom was still upset with him and if so, what exactly had been the cause of it. Tom wasn't overly sensitive so a small comment couldn't possibly have gotten to his head like that.

Harry hadn't bothered much with clothes when he had climbed into bed – which he did after getting rid of most of the dust that had settled on the sheets and killing off the spiders hiding in every nook and cranny in the room – and his gun laid on the small dusty nightstand to his right. The bed creaked with every small movement he made and his cheeks felt warm at the mere thought of how much noise it'd probably be making soon.

The door opened slowly and he listened as Tom dropped a couple of objects on the floor. He kicked his shoes off too – Harry could tell it from the way his footsteps were suddenly a lot softer, barely audible.

Harry didn't want to dwell on the angry expression Tom wore on his face yesterday, wanting to focus on everything else instead. He could feel anticipation run through him, making his body feel warm and sensitive. He was completely naked underneath the sheets and he was already half hard.

The bed dipped with Tom's weight and Harry bit his bottom lip, cock twitching between his legs. He thought of Tom's, of how it'd be buried inside of his ass soon.

His entrance clenched on thin air at the mere thought of it.

'Good morning,' Tom breathed into his ear. His breath was minty – he must've been chewing on mint leaves again. His teeth dragged over Harry's ear and his hands slid over Harry's body, making Harry wish the sheets weren't keeping them from having full on skin on skin contact.

'Morning,' Harry murmured. Tom purred from somewhere above him, his nose nudging the tender skin of Harry's neck before his lips latched onto it and started sucking. Harry moaned, rocking himself against the bed.

'I've got you a birthday present.'

Harry chuckled and pushed his ass up, rubbing against Tom's pelvis longingly and hearing him hiss and groan.

'I bet you do,' Harry hummed. 'Did you put a ribbon around it?'

Tom laughed before thrusting down, effectively pinning Harry's entire body to the bed with his own.

'Depends, would you untie the bow with your teeth?'

'I didn't know you were into that, To- oh…' Harry cut himself off when Tom's fingers dipped under the sheets, trailing over his biceps.

'You came prepared,' Tom drawled, referring to Harry's state of undress. Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He had. What was the use of clothes when they'd only get into the way?

'I figured wearing my birthday suit would be appropriate for the occasion.'

Harry felt the drag of the sheets over his body – could feel Tom's weight leaving him as the male climbed off him and stood near the bedside. He fought the initial need to cover himself up – _now wasn't the time to be shy, Harry Potter_ – and allowed Tom to slowly reveal his skin, every breath he took heavier, arousal prickling through his entire body. His thighs quivered, and his cock twitched from it again.

'This should be appropriate for every occasion,' Tom finally decided and Harry felt the tips of his ears grow hot, bottom lip caught between his lips. This was normal, and lots of people had apparently done this before them. Harry's parents had. It was silly to be nervous about something like this when it was just Tom he was doing this with.

Then again, it may just be so daunting  _because_ it was just Tom. Never before had he felt so strongly for anyone. What if he disappointed the other male? It was frightening, to be honest, but Harry had never been one to back down from a challenge. He didn't exactly know what was going to happen – well he'd wind up with a cock in his ass, that much was clear – but he didn't want to act like a shitty little brat and ask stupid questions either. Asking questions would ruin the moment without a doubt.

Tom had already taken his shirt off and Harry licked his dry lips, openly staring at his body, the fine hair trailing from his belly button into the waistband in his pants. Although they had touched each other's cocks before they had never truly taken time to appreciate each other's bodies. Hadn't made it slow and drawn out yet maybe today they would if Harry'd be capable of slowing. The anticipation was murderous.

'It's rude to stare, you know.' Harry announced though he was guilty of being in awe, too. The pale stretch of skin, the tanlines, the slope of Tom's hipbones and the shape of his shoulders... It was difficult to tear his eyes away. Almost impossible.

Still, Harry somehow managed. He reached eye contact with Tom and smiled nervously.

Harry fumbled a bit before he awkwardly placed the pillow in his lap, in need of at least some sort of decency, and held out his arms to Tom. Tom glanced him over once more before he nodded, briefly, taking off his worn jeans and his boxers and walking over to where Harry was seated. He wrapped his arms around Harry and Harry smiled, feeling childish but enjoying the embrace.

It was innocent. Or at least compared to what they were going to do, it was.

'Harry,' Harry's chest felt warm from where it had been pressed up Tom's and Harry glanced down at Tom's lips, wanting them on him. 'Are you still sure?'

It was incredibly considerate, especially coming from Tom who normally just did whatever the hell he wanted. It was an appreciated notion – it was just that now that he had Tom close he couldn't bear letting go again. Harry had never had the chance to do this so deliberately. Harry glanced down at Tom's hard cock and still couldn't quite get over the fact that  _he_ caused that. He turned Tom on to the point where he was aching and leaking in his pants, and it gave him a random burst of courage. Tom wasn't disgusted by his naked body.

Harry pushed the pillow off his body, grinning and climbing on top of Tom's lap.

Now wasn't the time for being shy.

'Scared you can't handle it?' Harry dared him. Tom looked a bit surprised, but Harry didn't stop and think about it too much. Instead he leaned down and pressed his lips against Tom's, sucking on his bottom lip the way he knew Tom liked it.

Tom groaned and gripped his hips, and Harry shivered.

Tom's hands felt large on his body. They always had – but never had they been on his naked hips before. He liked the feeling of them, liked the way the rougher patches scraped over his own tender skin.

He groaned softly in Tom's mouth when those hands slipped down, cupping his ass. All softness was out of the window with that – Harry was grinding down on Tom until Tom grunted something in his mouth and pushed Harry flat on his back.

As soon as Tom was on him again they were kissing hungrily and Harry started running his hands over precious, beautiful exposed skin now that he was given the chance. He wrapped his legs around Tom's waist and started reaching out between them, hearing Tom chuckle breathlessly.

'Calm down, there is plenty of time,' he murmured against the soft skin of Harry's neck. Harry huffed impatiently.

'Fuck you,' Harry cursed, gasping when Tom bit down and then soothed the skin with his tongue. That was going to leave a mark and Harry didn't care. If it were up to him the entire world should see how amazing Tom could make him feel.

'We'll get to that later,' Tom promised him. He kissed the tip of Harry's nose before his hands started trailing down Harry's shoulders, his chest, his nipples… a thrill went through Harry and he mewed when Tom sucked one of them into his mouth, his back arching and his legs spreading. Harry's stomach was doing backflips and the entire world seemed to exist solely out of Tom, his mouth and his body and his cock. Harry was unsure if he wanted it to ever stop. It was both torture and bliss.

'Oh, Tom,' he whimpered, hands running through Tom's hair, feeling him drag kisses lower and lower. Harry's stomach was positively quivering by the time Tom had reached his belly button. 'What're you-'

'You're not the only one who likes to use his mouth, sweetheart.'

Harry gasped.

It was true, though. Harry loved using his mouth. It was like he had some strange sort of oral fixation... He loved kissing Tom, sucking on his fingers, licking a trail down his throat, sucking his cock… It was just the heavy weight of it on his tongue that got to him, and the taste... God, the taste. Harry loved the feeling of the corners of his mouth stretching, the sore feeling in his jaw. The way his voice would crack after sucking Tom off, too – the burning in his scalp from the way Tom would tug at his hair. Harry was uncertain if it was something he enjoyed doing for the simple act of it, or if he loved doing it so much because he did it for Tom.

Most likely a combination of the two.

'Do it,' Harry said, voice wavering, his legs spreading already. Tom's eyebrow cocked up and he smirked arrogantly, his fingers brushing over the underside of Harry's hard manhood.

'You are very demanding, do you know that?' he drawled but he didn't look offended. Not in the slightest.

'Maybe I wouldn't be if I wasn't so hard and if you weren't so close to my dick,' Harry countered, not in the mood for playing around anymore. Tom chuckled and pressed a kiss to the head of Harry's member. The gesture shouldn't have looked that tender, goddammit.

'Typical,' Tom murmured. He grinned and started mouthing down Harry's thigh again, having given him a taste of what was to come. Harry whined and his manhood strained at his belly, his toes curling when Tom started running just the lightest touch of fingertips over his balls. He thought of how stretched he'd soon be. Of how Tom would fill him up with his hard cock –  _hard for Harry, fuck_ – and how hard he'd come… Inside of Harry... Or perhaps on him, coating him with thick strands of seed...

'W-what?' he stammered. His voice wasn't so certain anymore and he gulped when Tom glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

'How we're still arguing like an old married couple when I'm about to do things to you that will make whores blush.' Harry opened and closed his mouth, a bit taken aback by the comparison. Old married couple... Tom must've noted because his expression softened and he leaned up again, his body stretched in the most graceful, almost feline-like manner to brush his lips over Harry's temple. Then he whispered a low and certain, 'I am going to fuck you, Harry'.

Harry's breath hitched and his fingers twitched, the comment doing horrible things to him.

'I'm going to spread your legs and fuck your little hole until it's wet and loose and leaking. You'll be so wet and dirty, used... And you will know that it was me. With each aching step you'll take you'll remember how filthy you were for me and how you would do it all over again.'

Tom's lips were brushing against Harry's ears, but it were his words that touched a more intimate, dark part of Harry where Tom's hands could never reach. He shifted and placed his hands at Tom's hips, gripping them and grinding himself down against Tom's hard length. Tom practically purred at that.

'Yes. Do you feel that?' he questioned, slowly rocking himself against Harry, 'That is going to be inside of you.'

Another whimper fell from Harry's lips and Tom hummed.

'You want this. You crave nothing more.'

God, Harry did. He wanted nothing more. If just words could make him feel like this...

'Fuck me,' he whispered, his voice rough and his eyes dilated. Tom all but growled against his skin, biting down hard on his shoulder and gripping his hips. 'Lick me, fuck me, I don't care – just do something -'

It seemed to be all the encouragement Tom needed. Harry made a surprised noise when Tom was suddenly off him, his hips still stuttering up in that lazy pace they had set up and he yelped when Tom flipped him over and pulled his hips up, his ass high in the air, presented for fucking. The slap came hard and fast and it forced another surprised cry to rip from Harry's throat, and he was quick to bury his face into the ratty pillow, his face burning while his ass started throbbing. The pain was sharp, stinging, making his entrance flutter when Tom parted his cheeks and inhaled a deep breath.

Harry had never been this vulnerable for another person before. Tom knew that, too. Harry had always been vulnerable to him, always dependent, always growing and learning but under his watch.

Another smack, this time to his other cheek, and Harry couldn't help the drawn out moan that came out of his throat this time.

Tom was his leader. He was his teacher, his lover, his friend, his enemy...

Tom murmured something Harry couldn't quite care for and then he felt hot breath on his entrance and Harry's eyes widened because oh, Tom's tongue was suddenly there, licking a long stripe from his perineum all the way to his tailbone, leaving his entrance quivering and sensitive and his hands clenching into fists. Tom's short nails dug into Harry's ass cheeks, just temporarily, before he spread him again for as wide as he could and repeated it.

It was strange, but Harry loved it.

'Who'd know you'd be such a slut,' Tom murmured, the word sounding foreign, stinging like the slaps but arousing like the licks that followed. Harry mewed and pressed his ass up higher, begging for more. He was practically throbbing.

'More,' Harry panted but Tom didn't do a thing and he whined petulantly, like a child. 'Tom it's my birthday, you said -'

He choked when Tom dove in again, sucking and laving at his entrance, his words muffled vibrations. His tongue soothed over his tender skin while his teeth nipped, his lips sucking. Harry gasped as the tip of Tom's tongue slowly tried to work him open, Tom's fingers slithering over his sides and he didn't even think before sucking them into his mouth, his back arching and trying to make himself as small as possible so he could reach them the best he could. Tom grunted and his fingers ran over Harry's straight teeth, tracing them before running along Harry's tongue, deeper into his mouth.

Harry's gag reflex had stopped working a long time ago.

Harry actually whined when Tom pulled those fingers out of his mouth again – he didn't know why, he just wanted to suck Tom's fingers or cock so bad – and another sharp sting came over his ass when Tom smacked it, followed by a blunt pressure against his hole.

The first finger slipped in. Maybe it was the tension or maybe it was that sudden hand at his cock that started pumping him so torturously slow, or maybe it was Tom's whispered lewd words or a combination of all those things, but it was too much. Harry's body tensed up completely, his eyes wide and before he knew it he came with a soft sob, come shooting from his cock and staining the sheets.

He was a shivering mess by the time he was done and the worst – or the best? – was that Tom just didn't stop.

He kept whispering things into Harry's ear, kept pumping him, kept working fingers into him – two and Harry already felt so full and he could feel his entrance pulsing around Tom's digits _oh God he was going to be so much more stretched would he even be capable of taking it?_ – and just opening him up. Harry's body was just so sensitive and he didn't even complain when Tom rolled him over, his cock half hard again. He felt like his head was spinning.

It was just so hot, and Tom was so close, and his eyes were just so hypnotizing Harry couldn't help but stare into them. His chest was still heaving up and down in a rapid pace, his lids fluttering. When Tom gripped Harry's legs Harry just draped them over Tom's shoulders. Blood was rushing through his ears, making him feel dizzy, absolutely high on life.

He felt alive.

Tom's cock nudged at his hole and Harry closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself.

'Look at me,' Tom demanded and Harry whimpered but cracked one of his eyes open. Tom wouldn't ask him if he was sure, not anymore. Tom looked like he couldn't think too clearly anymore and his eyes were dark. He looked wrecked.

Did Harry actually do that to him?

Harry wanted to say something but he couldn't. He hadn't expected to lose this much control over himself. He had underestimated it and he was surprised.

'Tom, I-'

'Breathe,' Tom cut him off. It was the only warning Harry got before he started pushing in, slowly, feeling him slide inside of him with each thick inch. Harry's eyes grew wide and his feet kicked out, toes curling and fingers fisting the sheets while he tried to fight the instinctual need to push Tom off him, out of him.

It burnt. God, it burnt. It was unlike anything Harry had felt.

His fingers splayed on Tom's skin and his hand twinged painfully, still tender and the bones not as strong as they used to be but on their way to becoming so, remembering Tom's command and focusing on just that.

He couldn't do much else.

'Tom, oh, Tom-' he gasped, practically choking when Tom thrust his hips forward one final time, snapping what was left of his cock right inside of Harry without giving him time to get used to being stretched slowly.

Tom was inside of him.

He was actually inside of him, and Tom's cock was hot and throbbing and his ass felt so weird and full and Tom looked so…

Harry whimpered and shifted. He tried to relax his toes and the grip he had on the sheets but that proved to be a difficult task. He was sweating – his armpits were prickling with it.

'Been thinking about this for so long,' Tom murmured, making Harry snap up from his thoughts. He glanced up at him and his cheeks felt hot. Tom's hand found his cock and he started stroking Harry, lazily, just enough to make him needy and achy again. 'Going to fuck you until you can't even remember what it's like without my cock in you.'

Harry groaned and his head fell back when Tom slowly pulled out, only to push back in again. Slowly, teasingly. Testing.

'You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to fuck your ass until you can't see straight anymore?' Tom seemed to force himself to go slow, but Harry could hear the strain in his voice. It was slowly spreading through his own limbs as well and it was strange, but Tom no longer felt foreign inside of him when his body grew accostumed to it – his thrusts were pleasurable, making Harry gasp and try to move his hips back into Tom's when he pulled out. He was fucking his cock slowly into Harry, the head always remaining inside, as if he didn't completely want to break their contact.

Harry spread his legs wider and they wrapped around Tom's waist instead, his lids fluttering shut. Pleasure coursed through him, spreading like a dull ache that grew more and more prominent, making him mew and thrust his own hips more into it. His back arched and he gasped when Tom suddenly grabbed his hips and started pounding into him and -  _oh, okay, why didn't they do this earlier?_

'How does it feel?' Tom breathed, mouthing along the stretched column of Harry's throat. Harry could only moan stupidly, the words sending more sparks of arousal down his spine. He had no words. It ached and it was delicious.

'That's right, sweetheart… just like that. Just fucking take it.'

Harry's hand burried itself in Tom's hair and he kissed him, wet and dirty, their lips barely meeting and their tongues all but battling. He could feel his own entrance throbbing around Tom, how it struggled to take it all, feeling Tom's manhood just pounding into his greedy hole.

Harry jolted when Tom slapped his ass again and moaned into his mouth. It felt amazing, all of it - so dirty and naughty somehow. He opened his eyes to see Tom staring at the picture he was making too – undoubtedly staring at the way he fucked Harry. He gripped Harry's legs and practically folded him in half and Harry just laid there, letting him use his ass, like he was a mere toy, like he only existed to get fucked.

He would be fine with that too.

Tom's balls slapped against his ass, a mocking imitation of his hands, so big and powerful and hot, and Harry whined when he wrapped his own hand around his manhood. He wanted this to last, really. But he could feel the pressure building up in him again. Feel it starting at his curled toes and going all the way through his body, making him feel as though he was on fire.

'I- I'm gonna come,' he choked, stupidly. Tom grunted and just kept thrusting into him, kissing him again and swallowing Harry's moans.

'Close?' Harry nodded, his eyebrows knitting together while he tried to fight it off. But the moment he let go of his cock to Tom gripped it cruelly, pumping him feverishly. 'Then fucking do it. You fucking whore.'

Harry gasped and closed his eyes, but it was to no avail.Tom squeezed him at the base of his cock again and that was it.

He was done.

He came with a sob and spilled all over that hand but it just. Wouldn't. Stop. He was vaguely aware of Tom cursing and slapping his ass again but he just couldn't see or think properly – this was even more intense than any of his previous orgasms. Tom was just so relentless right now, he kept fucking into Harry, making him feel dizzy and lightheaded. Harry's legs fell apart and he let Tom fuck him to his heart's content. He was entirely starry-eyed and spent.

When Tom came he cursed and filled Harry up, right until the brim, hot ropes of come deep inside of Harry's clenching entrance. He groaned and Harry mewed, gripping at Tom's shoulders.

Tom cursed and Harry nodded because he knew.

It was intense. He could barely breathe.

Tom collapsed on top of Harry, panting for air. His chest felt warm against Harry's own and Harry's legs still rested at either side of him, his hands dragging through Tom's hair without even knowingly doing so. Harry tried to blink back the black dots appearing in his vision or slow down the fast beating of his heart. He didn't succeed in either one of those so he settled for staring at the ceiling and listening to Tom breathing.

'That was…' he started stupidly, his voice wavering. He didn't have any words to describe it. He had never seen such raw need in Tom's eyes and had never experienced it this bad himself either.

Tom was still inside of him. He could feel him, still half hard.

Tom chuckled and pressed his mouth against Harry's temple in a gentle kiss. He seemed to be himself again, no longer taken over by his primal needs. Harry wondered if sex was always this passionate or if it was just because it had been them doing this.

'Amazing?'

'Well – yeah, that too, but…'

'Hmm,' Tom hummed and pressed another kiss against Harry's mouth this time. Their tongues slid against one another lazily, making him moan softly. 'I think I just blew your mind.'

Was it weird that he felt closer to Tom, physical position be damned? He had now seen all of Tom. The way he was when he got angry, when he lost control…

Harry snorted.

'Arrogant,' he murmured, yet found himself smiling. He kissed Tom and moved his hips, unknowingly tightening around Tom's cock. He felt it twitch inside of him and gasped, whereas Tom looked at him with dark eyes again. 'You – you should pull it out,' Harry murmured, shifting a bit. Tom growled at him and gripped his hips, holding him still. 'Tom -'

Harry shivered when Tom's fingers slid over his cock, which twitched painfully as well.

'No,' Tom grunted. He kissed Harry hungrily again and slowly started rocking his hips back and forth into him. 'I'm going to keep you full of my come.'

Harry was already becoming too aroused to care much for what Tom had to say.

* * *

It was somewhere late in the afternoon when they were both laying on their backs, side by side and panting and staring at the ceiling.

There was a pillow underneath Harry's ass to keep it up, and a small trail of come that was leaking out of him. Harry was tired, almost blissfully so and his mind was so fuzzy he didn't think he'd be capable of even  _thinking_ of anything to say. Tom rolled onto his side and studied Harry's face, tracing his fingertips over it until he took hold of his hand and pressed a kiss against every one of his knuckles, gently for once.

Harry's hole felt properly used and sore and slick with come and saliva, from where Tom had spat on it a couple of times to ease his way inside of Harry and had come in him, and _on_ him. Harry felt dirty yet clean at the same time. Dirty because of the way he smelt and undoubtedly looked, clean because he felt like a new person somehow.

He felt different. More in tune with Tom.

He turned his head and gazed at Tom, noting the dark glint wasn't entirely gone but Tom looked like he wasn't going to jump him again. He looked entranced. Possessive.

Harry nuzzled the palm of Tom's hand and sighed. His limbs were heavy and he felt like he could fall asleep any minute now.

'You reminded me of my younger brother somehow, when I saw you that night,' Tom murmured, and Harry glanced up, a bit confused until he realized Tom had been thinking about the first time they had met. 'He had suffered quite a lot. By the time he died there wasn't much left of his face.'

How horrible it must be to see your own sibling suffer a horrible death… undoubtedly, Tom's brother had been attacked by zombies as well. Maybe Harry's age and situation had reminded him so much of his younger brother that Tom had tried to pretend, at least for a little while, that Harry had been him. Maybe that's what had made Tom so bitter the first years they had spent together.

'What was his name?' Harry whispered after a short silence, and Tom sighed.

'Voldemort,' he stated and Harry sat up a bit with some difficulty, not at all ashamed for his state of undress. They were past that. Tom's eyes strayed to the pillow Harry had laid on, to the small wet spot of come, but he didn't say a word.

'That's an unusual name,' Harry commented. Tom's eyes went back to Harry again as if awakened from a dream. Maybe he hadn't meant to tell Harry this – maybe his mind was a bit fuzzy as well. It wouldn't surprise Harry.

'My first name is Thomas,' Tom answered, 'I was named after my father – my middle name isn't common either.'

'I didn't even know you had a middle name,' Harry commented and he blinked a bit. Now that Tom was finally opening up to him he realized he didn't know much of Tom at all… And Tom didn't know much of Harry either. They really should change that. 'My middle name is James. I was named after my father as well,' Harry added.

'Marvolo.' Tom simply said when Harry blinked in confusion, he added, 'My middle name. It's Marvolo'.

Marvolo. Marvelous. No, that name indeed didn't sound very common – it was unlike anything Harry had ever heard before.

'Nice to meet you, Marvolo,' Harry murmured, tasting the name on his tongue. No, it didn't quite roll off his tongue the way Tom did, but he liked it nonetheless.

Thomas Marvolo Riddle.

Not just Tom.

'Nice to meet you too, James.' Tom's eyes lingered on him and Harry squirmed. He doubted they'd be capable of doing anything sexual any time soon but that didn't mean that look in Tom's eyes wasn't… That it didn't  _do_ things to him. Harry's grip tightened on Tom's hand and he took a deep breath, licking his lips. They felt swollen as well and everything ached in just the right pleasant ways.

He could learn to live with it.

Tom's fingers flexed in his hold and the elder male stared at their joint hands, frowning for just a moment as if struggling to remember something and then glancing up at him again.

'Stay right here, I got you something.'

Harry stared shamelessly when the other male got up from bed, trailing his eyes over Tom's broad back and watching him put on his boxershorts. Tom disappeared into the hallway and Harry strained his ears to hear anything, but considering Tom wasn't wearing his shoes that was sort of a tall order.

When Tom returned he was holding something behind his back, and Harry moved his head to try and see. Tom smirked at him.

'Your hand is as good as healed now. I'm sure you will find a way to work with this.'

He pulled a bow and a container of arrows out from behind his back and Harry blinked rather stupidly at them, before realizing they were for him. Harry stretched his arms out, not sure if he could properly walk just yet. Tom looked amused as he sat down beside Harry, placing it all in his lap. Harry tried to think of a moment when Tom could've made this all for him before he remembered that Tom hadn't slept by his side this night. Had he stayed up just to make this for Harry?

The arrows were all made of wood, the string of the bow looking like what they used to fish with. It was smooth and simple and beautiful, handcarved with the utmost care.

'I… was that why you were away last night? I thought you were upset,' Harry murmured, his fingers running over the string. His heart felt warm – Tom obviously had pulled an all nighter while making this. It was beautiful and the wood was so smooth, the arrows sharp and thin, light. Harry felt disappointed with himself when he realized he didn't know how to use this even though he should, given that they'd be running out of bullets some day. Bullets were no longer getting produced after all. One day they'd go sparse and they'd have to go without them.

'I love it,' Harry announced truthfully. 'But to be honest... I don't even know how to use this…'

'I'm physically drained,' Tom huffed. He nuzzled Harry's neck and sighed. 'Show some appreciation, won't you?'

Harry paused, feeling himself smile. Yes, Tom had made this an amazing birthday; had given Harry everything he had wanted and so much more… He turned his head, placed his hand on Tom's cheek and kissed Tom's forehead. No matter what he'd try to do, it wouldn't be enough. Harry wouldn't be able to express his gratitude just by doing things maybe others had done to Tom in the past.

So he used the only thing he had. The only thing he had to give Tom, that was truly his own.

'I love you.'

It were three words he hadn't used in years, not since _that_ day. He wished he had used them a lot more in his life. He wished he hadn't scrunched up his nose when his mom had tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead the last night before his life had changed – wished he had told his dad he secretly thought his magic tricks weren't lame, that they were awesome.

But things always had to go wrong before Harry would understand these things. And even if Tom inhaled a sharp breath and didn't instantly reply, that was fine. Because Tom had already given him something so much more than mere three words and butterflies in his stomach.

He had given him hope.

Tom had taken him under his wing and had taught him how to survive. He had made a man out of Harry and had saved not only his life, but his heart. Harry didn't think he would've even lasted a day without Tom.

He would've been eaten alive by either his own conflicted emotions, or zombies.

Fingers slid through his hair and Harry trailed his eyes over Tom's face, finding his own straining with a silly smile. He had always known he would stay at Tom's side for a really long time, or at least until Tom would grow sick him. He had been content with standing next to Tom, but not with him. But now they were we and us.

'You mean that, don't you?'

The surprise in his voice couldn't help but make Harry wonder if Tom's mom had told him she loved him before the virus broke out. Again he found himself wishing he could know everything about Tom's life and his woes.

If there would be another way to make it clear to the other male, Harry would gladly do it. Tom opened his mouth, but Harry cut him to it with a chaste kiss. 'You don't have to say it in return. In fact – don't. You've done enough for me already. Thank you, for everything, Tom.'

There was something achingly similar to confusion in Tom's eyes, but it was so foreign and fleeting that Harry decided that maybe it had been a figment of his own imagination. He got up, ignored the tremor in his legs, and glanced at Tom.

'Wanna show me how this works?'

Much to his surprise, Tom sighed, slung his legs over the bedside and pressed his face in Harry's stomach, his fingers sliding over the smooth skin of the small of Harry's back.

'Tom?' Harry asked, shifting a bit. His entrance throbbed.

'Just give me this moment, impatient brat,' Tom murmured into Harry's skin, his lips feeling like a caress, reminding Harry of everything they'd done these past days. Of the progress they had made – of how Harry used to be this little boy with this stupid crush on his partner. Tom wasn't his partner or just his best friend anymore, a loss he didn't mourn for instead something beautiful had taken its place.

Tom was his lover, now. Had seen parts of Harry Harry had deemed ugly and inappropriate and Tom had worshipped them. And really, Harry didn't need to hear those three little words. For once he revelled in the fact that he knew something Tom didn't.

Everything Tom did and said showed Harry Tom loved him too. He settled himself in Tom's lap and smiled softly, feeling Tom sigh into his hair and press his cheek against the top of Harry's head. He cherished the thought of young Voldemort and even if he would never meet the boy he swore to him that he would look after his big brother.

* * *

They started walking again and they continued walking for a long time. Their nights were spent with franctic, eager lovemaking – Harry slowly grew accustomed to simply not being capable of walking without feeling the remembrance of Tom inside of him. They did it against trees, in caves, by river sides. Anywhere. One time they even got interrupted by a zombie walking into one of their traps.

Harry decidedthat shooting a zombie with a hard on was extremely awkward and something to be avoided.

According to Tom it was nearing the end of August and it meant they really needed to get a form of transportation soon – Tom had marked a couple of towns on the map where they should go but Harry had no telling if they were somewhere close with Tom leading the way. Time seemed to pass both incredibly slow and way too fast and Harry was often surprised to see the sun both rise and set, when the time in between felt like maybe a mere hour. His sense of time was completely off.

Harry glanced to the side, catching sight of a cross with wings marked on a tree and let go of Tom's hand as if burnt, his eyes wide while his head whipped around to find any signs of the Brotherhood being near. Tom's eyebrow rose at him when he turned to look at him again.

'I – Cross,' Harry said lamely, pointing at the tree. Tom stopped moving and traced it with his fingertips, before shaking his head and grabbing Harry's hand.

'Good. We're almost there,' Tom drawled. He folded the map and tucked it into his back pocket and adjusted his backpack.

What on earth did he think he was doing?

'Tom? That's a cross, we're in Christian territory-'

'It's okay. They'll help us.'

Harry stared as Tom glanced at another tree with the same symbol scratched into the bark and guided them past it, following the trail.

'I don't understand,'

Tom ignored him and Harry thought he heard the sounds of laughter in the distance. He heard a twig snap and he tensed, gripping Tom's hand tighter. Tom didn't turn and simply kept walking as though he didn't hear or care.

Tom did, however, react when Harry reached into his pocket and almost threw a knife at a little girl who ran past them with a careless smile on her face. Tom made a hushing noise and held Harry's wrists tight, amused while Harry stupidly watched the girl. His ears twitched when two other kids ran past them as well.

They weren't zombies.

'What's going on?' Harry asked. The little girl giggled and hid behind a tree, clearly playing hide and seek.

'We climbed a fence earlier,' Tom replied simply. Harry scowled.

'So?'

'We're safe. We're in Phoenix territory.'

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix was the exact opposite of the Brotherhood - they still clung onto a God both Harry and Tom did not believe in, but they didn't use their beliefs as a means to harm those who did not share those beliefs.

They continued on through the woods and ended up in a town that was clearly built long before the outbreak, if the smashed windows and chipped paint on the buildings were any indication. It looked nothing short of a haunted ghetto yet there were musicians out on the street, cheerful chatter all around them. People didn't look as haunted as they had in the previous town Tom and Harry had been in.

Tom and Harry walked through a small market and Harry watched in awe as salesmen tried to sell them knitted sweaters and home made liquor. The streetlights were undoubtedly powered by a generator somewhere. To be surrounded with so much normalcy... As they trailed behind a tall dark-skinned man named Kingsley Shacklebolt Harry pressed closer to Tom, still feeling a need to be on edge. The man had seemed kind enough when he had greeted them at the sloppily constructed walls surrounding the town but you could never know for sure these days.

What surprised Harry most was that they were free to come and go as pleased. Sure enough, there had been the comment about how blessed they had been for surviving the Brotherhood chasing them down but Tom and Harry had both ignored that, just like they had ignored the way Kingsley had mentioned they'd all been praying for more survivors. None of these people seemed violent or forced to do anything and they seemed to be genuinely devoted to the cause of helping as many as possible. Harry wondered if this was what religion really was supposed to be about. Having something to put your trust and faith in when the world was literally going to hell.

Kingsley led them to an empty house and dropped keys into one of Harry's hands, not even fazed by the way Tom was holding the other one. Was it because members of the Order of the Phoenix simply weren't homophobic, Harry wondered, or did they tolerate it because they needed more people like Tom and Harry who could fight? The conversation Harry and Tom had about their _sexuality_ still rung clear in his ears...

'May I have a word with you, mister Riddle?' Kingsley asked. Harry frowned at how obviously Kingsley was dismissing him and huffed, opening his mouth to reply and closing it again when Tom shot him a certain look. Tom then glanced at the house, as if checking it for any possible dangers.

'Yes you may,' Tom finally drawled when he deemed it safe. He released Harry's hand and Harry frowned at him even as he started moving away.

'Don't open the door for anyone but me,' Tom called over his shoulder. Harry just remained on the porch, watching as they walked away, Tom's hands stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders relaxed. He didn't look too worried but Harry knew something was up. He could feel it.

He only got inside the house when they were both out of view and even then he lingered in the hallway for a long time. He wanted to get some sleep, honestly, and his feet ached from having walked for such a long time.

But it was all foreign. This calmth. This safety.

They hadn't even set up traps and Harry hadn't even had the time to explore– 

Explore.

Maybe Harry would more at ease if he'd at least know his surroundings.

He set down his bows and arrows – he had been practicing with Tom now that his hand was okay again and had been getting better, small targets still proved to be a difficulty though – and chewed on his bottom lip, looking around himself.

The house wasn't dirty per se and Harry was actually sure a lot of people had been here before Tom and Harry had received the keys. It was just a bit dusty but he wasn't one to complain. He had a roof over his head and most likely a bed he could sleep in and that alone was a luxury.

Harry glanced at the cross hanging from the wall with mild distaste and started walking up the stairs, checking every room in the house. There wasn't a lot of furniture and what did stand there seemed to be damaged. Harry flopped down onto a bed and closed his eyes, stretching his arms out wide. There was a nagging feeling at the pit of his stomach that he just couldn't quite place.

It shouldn't really worry him that Kingsley had wanted to speak to Tom. Tom was the eldest of the two, after all, and no matter how much Harry had aged mentally, his face didn't show it at all. He barely looked a day over 16.

Harry huffed out a breath and rubbed at his eyes.

He knew they were safe here and that these people lived a very sheltered life. They had built up an existence here. Of course they'd be surprised to see new faces and fact remained that Tom was handsome. Beauty was hard to come by in this world, nowadays.

Still the connection between the Order of the Phoenix and the Brotherhood bothered Harry. 

Religion.

He remembered the disgust on Grindelwald's face when he had asked Harry if he was a fag. Surely if anyone around here had been as radical as the members of the Brotherhood, they would have at least said vile things at seeing their joined hands.

'Tired?'

Harry shot up at the sudden question and threw the knife hidden in his waistband into the direction the voice came from, narrowly missing Tom's head. Tom stepped to the side before Harry had managed to get a hit on him and cocked his eyebrows up in mild amusement.

Harry smiled sheepishly.

'I'm-'

'Predictable,' Tom finished for him. He glanced at the knife embedded into the wall, piercing the ugly floral wallpaper and casually pulled it out as if it hadn't just been very close on being in his head instead. 'Your aim has gotten better, I'll give you that.'

'Why did Kingsley want to talk to you?' Harry got up and didn't botter with chit-chat. He bluntly ignored the creaking of the bed – it reminded him vaguely of his birthday – in favor of crossing his arms over his chest and frowning at Tom. Tom leaned against the doorway and just stared at him for a long while, before shrugging and sitting down on the bed.

'We're staying here for a while,' Tom announced. Harry blinked.

'What? Why? Tom – it's almost September. You said we had to reach the farm before winter. We don't have time to stay here.' Harry didn't even know if they were close to their destination, come to think of it.

'They have motorcycles,' Tom said. 'We need one. A car is too big and fact remains that the Brotherhood is looking for us. The Order wants to help us if we work for them for a while.'

Harry narrowed his eyes.

'And what does 'helping' entitle?' he asked. Tom shrugged again.

'They want us to hunt for them. We won't do that, of course – we're going to stick around until we've figured out where they keep their vehicles and then we're going to steal-'

'You can't do that. These people are helping us!' Harry hissed instantly, 'They let us in their town, they gave us a house we can live in for a while! The least we can do is pay them back!'

It just wasn't right. This kindness felt strange and foreign and Harry was still unsure if he wanted to trust the people offering them this all (hunting a bit for them? Were they truly that desperate for food?) but stealing such valuable objects... No. It wouldn't be fair.

'My my, Harry, when did you become so righteous?' Tom's eyebrows kicked up and Harry glared at him. 'Didn't you just say we don't have the time to stick around?'

Harry hated Tom for using his words against him and he could feel his shoulders slump in defeat after a tense silence, leaning against the wall behind him. He folded his arms over his flat chest and frowned a bit to himself.

'You're not being fair,' Harry murmured dejectedly. Tom snorted and it pissed Harry off more than it should. These people were helping them. It was true, Harry wasn't unfamiliar with cheating other people. He cheated people, he lied, but he didn't want to hurt other people. Stealing from people... it could cost those people their lives. Objects were valuable nowadays. A mere box of paperclips could make a huge difference - could become a makeshift weapon. Let alone a motorcycle...

'Life's unfair.'

Harry surprised to see Tom standing right in front of him. Crowding him.

'You're being stupid.'

Tom's eyebrow rose. 'Is that so?' he asked. 'I'd like to think I'm quite brilliant, actually.'

'Not right now. Do you want to have two organizations chasing us, Tom?' Harry's eyes narrowed when Tom's face remained passive. 'If the Brotherhood is chasing us we should have allies. The Order could be a great one – we need them.'

Tom remained silent for a very long time and Harry feared he was having one of his moods again, but then Tom just crossed his arms over his chest as well. He turned his head away. 'We don't need anyone.'

' _Tom_ ,' Harry huffed. The last thing they needed was Tom's ridiculous sense of pride to get in the way. Tom's blue eyes were back on him at once and if Harry had been less of the person he was he would've stepped back at the intensity of his gaze. 'Don't let your stupid pride get us in trouble. It's not just your own life you're playing with, here.'

When Tom just kept frowning at Harry, Harry got the feeling that they wouldn't make much progress and he stepped away from Tom, sighing and shaking his head before kicking his shoes off.

'I'm going to take a nap, my head fucking hurts,' he murmured, more to himself than to Tom. He could feel Tom's eyes boring into him as he all but collapsed on the mattress, not even bothering lifting the sheets. The temperature was getting lower, slowly, with each passing week. The zombies must be having it a lot easier now. They always seemed to multiply during the winters.

Eventually the bed dipped with Tom's weight and he closed his lids, sighing. He tried to keep himself from wondering what had happened to his own home. Maybe it got burnt to the ground. Tom's fingers thread through Harry's hair but Harry didn't move into it or away. Not even when Tom kicked his shoes off and curled up behind him, pressing his chest against Harry's back and wrapping his arm around Harry's narrow waist.

He fell asleep though he couldn't recall hearing Tom's breath evening out as well.

* * *

It was music that woke him, surprisingly.

Harry didn't recognize it at first, and it actually confused him and had him reaching for a knife. The blade and his eyes glimmered in the darkness, his blurry sight aimed at the window where light was outside, illuminating his face weakly. There were actual lights in the darkness outside, a foreign sight to him.

'Music,' Harry finally murmured to himself, startling a bit when he heard a hum somewhere next to him. Tom was laying on his back behind him, arms folded underneath his head, staring at the ceiling.

He needed some air, possibly some distance between the two of them would be nice too.

'I'm going outside.'

Tom hummed again, distractedly. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to Harry and Harry huffed in frustration, pushing himself out of bed and putting his shoes on.

'Put on a jacket, will you?' Tom drawled and Harry paused to look at him in mild interest. 'It's chilly.'

'How thoughtful of you,' Harry sarcastically commented. Tom's attention was finally fully on him and Tom shrugged.

'I just don't feel dragging you behind me if you get sick.'

Figured.

Asshole.

'Don't worry, I can handle myself,' Harry snapped. Still he snatched Tom's worn leather jacket from where it had been thrown over a chair in the far corner and put it on and left without saying a word.

When he got outside his eyes were wide with fascination. There were lanterns, the sky was clear and the moon shone bright. For a moment he just stood there, inhaling clean air and reveling in the fact that he was alone in this vibrant town.

The same little girl from before giggled and ran past him and he blinked at her, deciding that following her wouldn't hurt. As he trailed behind her, trying not to be obvious, the music became louder and more and more people gathered around, forming a crowd moving in odd ways Harry couldn't quite place until he got closer.

They were dancing.

People were actually dancing to music, underneath lanterns. It was something that Harry wouldn't have cared for in the past, but now he was utterly entranced by the simple sight. It was something he hadn't thought to ever see again.

People were laughing and talking, not one of them sparing him an unfriendly glance as he walked around and brushed his fingers over paper lanterns in wonder, questioning to himself if this was real. For a moment he could just let go of all the problems between Tom and himself and be grateful for being here. It was like a dream.

When he looked to his right he even saw a man selling ice cream.

'Mister?'

It was the little girl. Her tiny hand reached out for Harry's, and Harry stared at her in mild shock. Normally parents wouldn't allow their kids to talk to strangers; especially nowadays it was dangerous to let your kids run off. There was no more police around to try and find your child when it got kidnapped, after all.

The cross around her neck glimmered, and she had an innocent smile on her face. Harry felt himself relaxing – why had he tensed up? It was just a girl – and his eyebrows rose when she grabbed his hand.

'Can I…' she blushed and tugged at Harry's hand, until he hesitantly bent down to sit on his haunches. He studied her face for a moment; her black hair up in pigtails, face round and adorable. The Asian girl couldn't be over 10 years old. 'Can I dance with you, please? You look so pretty and lonely!'

Pretty and lonely. What a strange way to describe him.

Flabbergasted, Harry just nodded and the girl practically bounced around him, allowing her to lead him into the crowd. Eventually he started smiling and spinning her around, having some difficulty allowing his body to move freely to the rhythm of the music until he just relaxed and let go. He didn't know how long he stood there, bouncing and jumping around with a little girl – Cho, she had told him, her name was Cho and she was indeed 10 years old but she was turning 11 in 9 months and that was something she appeared to be very proud of – but he felt light. He felt… he felt like an actual teenage boy. He chuckled when she tried to get him to spin as well but decided to indulge her and spun for her. He heard her giggle and smiled as well, grabbing her little hands while the music finally went through his entire body, spreading like a fire.

He paused however when he saw Tom standing in the distance, leaning against a building and talking to a pretty girl. Almost as if on cue, Tom glanced at Harry and allowed the pretty girl to lead him to the crowd as well, still staring at Harry as she asked him to dance with her.

It was exactly like last time, when Harry had seen Tom talking to a girl after Harry had gone out without him. Jealousy flared up in his chest and he felt his eyebrows knit together in a tight scowl. Tom's eyes just kept boring into him, even as he placed a hand on the girl's waist and started guiding her. Bastard. He knew what it did to Harry.

The music slowed down and Cho hugged Harry around his waist, smiling up at him almost shyly. He started swaying them back and forth, but he could feel the careless happiness slowly fading.

Tom's eyes stared from over the shoulder of the girl he was slow-dancing with, cradling her head resting on his chest but his full attention aimed to Harry. Harry's grip tightened on the little girl's hand and he twirled her around, hearing her giggle and seeing the lights reflected in her eyes. Cho looked happy and her hair danced around her face, looking more like a child than before.

Still, Harry could not focus on it too much. Not anymore.

It was like his bubble was completely bursted.

Perhaps it was the singer's sad voice as well, or the sound of that guitar. He did not know – it just had been so long since Harry had had the pleasure of actually hearing music and he had never known how much music enriched life until it had been taken away. It moved him, made him kneel down when she tugged at his sleeve and pressed a kiss on his cheek. She giggled and he watched her run off to her mommy, probably. She disappeared into the crowd.

[ _'But I feel warmth on my skin, the stars have all unwind… The wind has blown but now I know that tomorrow will be kinder…'_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rsD4orsMFw)

Tom released the girl he had been dancing with and this time ignored her pleads for him to continue dancing with her, walking until he stood in front of Harry.

Harry gazed up at him. His mouth did not feel dry and he was not enticed by Tom's beauty – instead he tried to see through his skin, tried to see what it was that made Harry feel this way. So jaded yet so loved. So safe yet so threatened.

Tom lifted his hand for Harry to take and he did. His fingers slotted perfectly in the space between Tom's, his hand rested on Tom's shoulder and Tom's hand rested on Harry's shoulder in return.

Not on his waist. Tom saw Harry as an equal.

'We need to talk,' Harry murmured, following Tom's lead, ignoring the couple of stares they received. They were safe. No one seemed to hate homosexuals here and Tom and Harry would kill them before they would even consider attacking to be an option.

_'Tomorrow will be kinder, I know I've seen it before...'_

'I know,' Tom ackowledged. Now that the haze was lifted from Harry's eyes, now that the short period of blissful calmth had passed they had no other choice. There was still a future they had to think of. They couldn't continue living in the present without taking things of the past in consideration, in order to make the future work. His eyes lingered on Tom's lips but he did not dare to kiss him – not wanting to provoke anyone, he rested his head on Tom's chest. To anyone else it would've seemed as an innocent, loving gesture but it was not to Harry. He wanted to hear Tom's heartbeat, focus on it, compare it with his own. He was fascinated with Tom's body now that he had seen it fall apart under his gaze.

'I'm still the same,' Tom murmured in an amused tone, his hand squeezing Harry's. Harry said nothing in return because he had no idea how to reply to a comment like that when it held so much truth and dishonesty. He was still the Tom Harry knew, but his body was not. It was different. Harry saw it in a different light now.

He knew they were surrounded by people but in this moment it felt like the world solely existed out of Tom and the music. It was a sad song, and the singer's voice often wavered – with emotion Harry reckoned, everyone here was suffering from heavy depressions and whatnot – but it also voiced hope for things that would never be. Tomorrow would not be kinder. A brighter day would never come because this moment was going to be as good as it would get.

It was in Harry's, perhaps childlike, belief that this would not last though. It were people like the Order that would eventually gain the upper hand and build up something more than this small village. A town. Slowly a city. A country, some day – maybe even a continent. Harry thought that the world would never be rid of zombies completely, but they could be contained. People like the Order had weapons the Brotherhood and zombies did not.

Humanity. The ability to look past stereotypes, their own beliefs and the willingness to help and grow intellectually.

Faith. Pure, honest faith.

Tom's fingers thread through Harry's hair and Harry closed his eyes, his face pressing deeper into the crook of Tom's neck. What did Tom look and smell like, he wondered, before all of this started? Somehow Harry could imagine him only in suits. Some light cologne, maybe.

'What did you like to drink before all of this started?' Harry wondered out loud.

'Tea. Coffee – mostly tea though.'

'How predictable,' Harry murmured, a small stab at what Tom had commented a couple of hours ago. Tom laughed this time and Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of it.

'You?' Harry's eyebrows knitted together. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to come up with an answer to that – these years he had known that home had been safe, perfect, but the details… It startled him. How time had passed and robbed him of the small things – would it, as it would take more years away from Harry's life, claim Harry's entire memory as well? What would be left of his mom in a few years?

'I don't-'

'RUN! THEY'RE HERE!'

Tom's eyes widened for just a split second in surprise, his nails digging into Harry's shirt. The music stopped abruptly and people started screaming and Harry's head whipped around, his shoulders tensing up. He stumbled when people started pushing and pulling at him and he couldn't see much past the crowd, but what he was aware of was a loud noise above his head. They were plunged into complete darkness, bodies knocking into Harry and breaking them up.

He looked up to see a helicopter – familiar hooded figures were cutting ropes with people hanging from them. Harry didn't understand at first, watching as someone fell from the rope and his first instinct was to check if that person was even still alive, but then he stumbled backwards when that same person reached out and started ripping a girl apart with his bare teeth. Harry's heart froze in his chest when it began ripping out her intestines.

It was the singer. Her voice suddenly wasn't as pretty as it had been when she had been singing now that it was tainted with pained cries and begs and delirious whimpers. He aimed his eyes back up and dread filled his body, understanding the situation. Everything had just been so good and nice and safe.

Until the Brotherhood started throwing down zombies from the sky.

Everything was a complete chaos and Harry ran around blindly, pushing people away and looking for Tom.

'Tom!' he screamed, his heart hammering in his chest. 'Tom!'

People were trying their best to protect their loved ones. Harry could see people clutching each other's hands, heard them scream when one of them got caught. It should've been heartbreaking but Harry didn't care for it at all.

He needed to get to Tom. Now.

Harry yelped in surprise when one got dropped in front of him and he stabbed it in the forehead before twisting its neck, blood raining down on him. He couldn't see who was human and who was pretending to be.

Harry pushed people away and tripped over a dead body, cursing and trying to get up. He yelled when something grabbed his ankle and he kicked his feet out – in the flashing lights that came from the helicopter he saw a zombie staring up at him, its eyeball hanging only from string-like nerves from its socket, one corner of its mouth tattered and torn. Harry's heavy boot connected with its forehead a couple of times before it cracked and it moaned in pain and released the grip on Harry's ankle, giving him enough time to wedge his knife in the side of its skull. It didn't move anymore.

He scrambled back to his feet and ran into the crowd, trying to see his lover towering over the crowd like Tom normally did but he couldn't. Another body knocked into his again and he stumbled, turning around and seeing the girl Tom had been dancing with staring at him with scared eyes for just a split second before she ran away again.

'Tom!' Harry yelled. 'To-' Someone grabbed his elbow and Harry cursed, spinning around and almost slamming his knife into Tom's chest. Tom's face was covered in blood and his hair was a mess and in this brief moment, when his eyes were so wild and his grip so icy cold, it was almost as if Tom was one of those zombies. Maybe it were only a few split seconds but it seemed like screams and the noises ebbed away; Harry was lost, felt like he was losing his mind in this seemingly endless bloodbath. He wondered if he looked even remotively similar to the mess Tom was right now.

He wished he could feel relief. But this was far from over.

He gripped Tom's hand without even thinking twice - it was slick, so slick with blood - and they ran through the crowd. Harry's heart constricted painfully in his chest when girl that had been dancing with Tom was now brutally ripped apart – three zombies were feasting on her limbs. She was still alive and screaming for help.

But there was nothing they could do, anymore.

Tom shoved and pushed through people, things were exploding, fires were starting, people were wailing. There were too many things going on and all Harry was aware of was the security of Tom's hand and he knew in that moment that if he would let go of Tom, something would get to them both.

Tom ran into a direction, but Harry had already come up with a plan. He tugged at Tom's hand and Tom immediately turned around and started following Harry instead. Harry would later on marvel at the trust Tom had put into him. Trust that he wouldn't have put into Harry a few months ago.

Harry ran into a house and locked the door behind him, hearing a woman cry and a child scream in front of it. He gripped Tom's hand and they ran further into the house, hiding themselves in a cupboard underneath the stairs. They could barely fit and Harry slid down the wall, cradling his head in his hands.

And it was gone like that. This small place of goodness, destroyed by some crazies dropping off zombies from the sky. Harry thought that these men weren't just at all. Not in the slightest bit – they were vicious, cruel, ugly.

'We're going to stay here until morning,' Tom whispered harshly, and Harry nodded. He felt Tom's knees brush his own when the older man sat down as well. Without thinking he moved to sit on Tom's thighs, so that Tom could stretch his legs and so he could feel the secure warmth of Tom's skin. Tom's arms wrapped around him and Harry hid his face in his neck. Was this what growing up was like? Harry didn't know, but he suddenly felt old, much older than he really was. He decided that whenever Tom said something or someone was evil or dangerous, he would never doubt it again.

His arms wound around his boyfriend's neck and he held him close. The smell of blood was still so prominent, making him feel lightheaded, but all he could truly focus on was pressing his body against Tom's to ensure he was still there. Too many times had Harry thought he had lost Tom. He didn't want to feel like this anymore.

'Need you now,' Tom murmured, nipping and sucking at his skin. Not biting down like he usually did. Harry nodded numbly, fumbling a bit with his pants. He needed confirmation. Needed to be ensured they were both okay.

Tom unzipped his fly and released his cock and Harry pushed his pants down his thighs, not enough to be capable of spreading them but enough to expose his ass. He cried out when Tom instantly pushed two fingers inside of him, his own manhood twitching.

Harry closed his eyes tightly and sobbed. He just needed an embrace. He was so shaken up. He needed to be loved, he needed to feel Tom – needed reassurance. Anything.

Tom added a third finger, allowing Harry briefly to adjust to it before a fourth and then he pulled away again, leaving Harry's entrance bare and aching to be filled. Harry would never understand how easily he got so needy.

'Bend over, I'm going to fuck you from behind,' Tom murmured. There was barely space but Harry did as told anyway, too emotional to protest.

He could've lost Tom tonight.

Tom slid inside of him and Harry whined in pain, the tight ring of his ass fluttering, feeling Tom press a hand against his mouth where he bit down at the tender flesh of it in order to keep from making too much noise. His asshole was gripping him tight, desperate to hold him inside, hold him where Harry needed him most. Tom instantly started thrusting, his chest pressing against Harry's back. It was entirely fucked up – Harry could hear people screaming and fighting for their lives yet all he cared for was Tom fucking into him, the slight burn only an addition to the almost desperate need going through him.

Tom's free arm curled around Harry's torso, pulling him close and cursing. Harry thought he felt something wet press up against his sides – blood. It smelt like blood and they were both drenched in it.

Tom was pistoning his thick cock in and out of Harry's ass in a frenzy and Harry mewled, arching back into the male's thrusts, offering his ass up, the slippery pump and retreat of Tom's dick inside him so dirty, the flesh hot and slippery, determined.

Harry moans were muffled, whimpered words of encouragement going unheard. He loved the feeling of that big manhood pounding into his willing, tight asshole, but most of all he just loved it because it was Tom's. The thrusts were never quite even, always erratic and frenzied because they didn't have time for teasing. They had almost lost each other, again.

Tom's hand sliped from his mouth and curled around Harry's cock, jerking him off harshly, nipping at his ears.

'You're taking that cock so good, sweetheart,' Tom murmured into his ear, his words slurred and filthy and Harry pressed himself more into Tom's hips. Sweat rolled down his face. 'You're so good to me.'

Harry mewed again and reached behind himself, kissing Tom hungrily on the mouth and tasting blood there. He was starting to come – he could feel it building up, felt himself twitching and shivering. Just one flick of Tom's wrist and he was done, coming so hard he nearly passed out and forced Tom to kiss him again, to swallow his cries.

Tom came not much later, holding Harry in his lap and filling him up with come again. Harry whined pitifully – Tom never did pull out any time soon after they both came. As if he wanted to keep Harry full with his come.

Harry slumped against Tom's chest and let himself be caressed; Tom was vaguely murmuring something in his hair. He couldn't quite understand but he thought he heard the words loveand fucking much. His mind couldn't find a way to string those words together in a proper sentence so he just remained there, Tom's body serving as his bed and his own serving as a blanket to Tom.

Harry reckoned they both wouldn't find a perfect fit like one another anymore.

* * *

When Harry woke up he instantly pushed himself up, eyes wide in the darkness the cupboard brought upon them and hyperaware of where he was and why he was there. Vivid images of last night came back to him, making his head ache and his hands reach out to nothing in particular, finding them clutching a piece of fabric. What had happened outside? Was the Brotherhood still out there and if so, how were Tom and Harry suppose to leave? He already had the need to pee - he couldn't stay here forever. He felt his body tense and cursed under his breath, shifting and still not letting go.

'Relax,' Tom murmured and Harry's head whipped around, seeing Tom's eyes stare up at him in the weak lights poking through the cracks. He relaxed his fingers and realized he had been fisting Tom's shirt – he could feel his skin through it. Tom's expression wasn't unreadable: he looked kind of sleepy. He looked too relaxed for the situation.

'Tom?' he whispered, needing to ground himself somehow. He needed information, but he dreaded to ask it of him. He was unsure if information that could make Tom look so relaxed would have the same effect on him. Tom sometimes seemed to be a complete stranger to him.

Tom shook his head but understood anyway. 'The screams died down eventually. There were a lot of gunshots but it's been quiet for a long time– it should be safe now.'

Harry opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. His legs ached because they had been in the same position for such a long amount of time and he was thirsty, but he was still alive and that was more than apparently a lot of people could say. He had a hard time imagining the vibrant place of last night in ruins, and the mental images he came up with were sickening. The thought of that pretty girl Tom had been dancing with came to mind again, how she had been torn apart only seconds after Harry had looked her in the eye. That could've been him instead.

Tom and Harry were used to zombie attacks. But they've never been a part of such a big, planned one with so many victims; Harry vaguely wondered what it had been like in the major cities, when the virus had just broken out and no one had known how dangerous it had been just yet. It could've been so easily contained, too, if everyone had acted the same like the Order had last night...

He shifted and Tom hissed, as though he was in pain. Harry blinked at that and touched the same spot on Tom's arm again, feeling Tom's fingers grip his wrist tightly and keeping him from prodding too much. He was wounded. It felt wet, like it was bleeding and needed stitches.

'You're hurt,' Harry whispered. Tom grunted and shifted, releasing Harry's wrist again.

'It's fine,' he ground out, and then, his voice somewhat gentler as if noting that Harry did nothing to deserve his foul mood, 'Nothing I can't handle.'

Harry decided not to push it too much and he bit his bottom lip, slowly nodding. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and wondered if it would be safe to leave their hiding place. He couldn't hear much from the outside world, just like Tom had said, but was silence better than screaming and gunshots? Was it a better indication of safety when in reality zombies simply didn't speak and only screamed when they'd been hungry for too long and were aggressive?

'This is how they took over other places,' Tom murmured suddenly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, 'they destroyed blockages, stole their weapons. Made people believe that they'd only be safe with the Brotherhood.'

Harry got how the Brotherhood gained the upper hand, honestly. Like he said before, people simply looked for something to cling onto. Their spirits were already broken from losing so many loved ones and everyone was so traumatized that Harry doubted there was someone out there who didn't suffer from mental disorders. It was so much easier to follow up orders when you no longer thought thinking for yourself could make a difference in the world. In a twisted way, Grindelwald was a genius. Harry was certain that if the world had still been normal, he wouldn't have gotten this far. He seemed to have lost the very essence of religion, the purpose of it, completely.

If he hadn't he wouldn't have attacked a place of so much goodness. Vibrance. Life.

'But they're not.'

It was stupid to say that because it was so obvious but Harry supposed he never had been a very subtle person. Tom's hand reached out and brushed Harry's hair from his eyes and Harry looked at him again. The male was staring at him with a strange expression in his eyes, and it made Harry shift. He didn't know that look at all and he was unsure if he liked it. He looked tired, but in the same way so very awake. He looked like he was hurt physically though other than that wound on Tom's arm Harry couldn't find a thing that was wrong with him.

'Tom?'

'How do you know you love someone, Harry?'

Harry blinked before he reached forward and grabbed Tom's hand, guiding it to his own chest right over Tom's heart. The question was strange. Not at all unexpected, however. He had the feeling Tom had never had someone to truly love and even then he had probably said it never out loud. Relief flooded over him and he closed his eyes temporarily.

'You have to feel it here. And if you feel it long enough there you'll know it up here too.' Harry's lips briefly brushed over Tom's temple, his hands sliding down Tom's chest to settle at his waist, holding him close for a brief moment.

He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.

He could feel it in his heart too, if he focused on it. Thinking he lost Tom again… it had gotten to him. He didn't think that having sex at that moment had been appropriate but it had been so much more than sex. It had told him that Tom was really there. He hugged Tom's head to his chest and took another deep breath just to steady himself. He knew they had to go outside.

But he dreaded to see what was left outside.

Tom's arms wound around him too and they just held each other for a moment before deciding to head outside. When Tom was outside, he instantly ripped a strap of cloth off his shirt and bound it around his wound, obscuring it from view.

It burnt and sent tingles through the entire limb and Tom could feel his eyebrows knitting together in a dark scowl.

* * *

Harry's expectations were nothing compared to what King's Cross looked like right now.

Houses weren't entirely burnt down, though there was still smoke coming off them. He could still spot small fires somewhere in the distance, people running around with buckets of water. The ground was littered with small belongings – he could spot a broken watch, a shoe amongst the blood spatters and gore.

It was the smell that got to him.

The smell made him gag and bring a hand up to cover up his nose. It smelt of death all around, burnt plastic and flesh and blood and rotting. Some of the lanterns flickered pitifully and when Harry looked to his left he saw the ice cream cart was pushed over, white melted ice cream leaking from it.

The music had made place for yelled commands and cries of pain and sobs every now and then. Tom's fingers wound around his wrist, holding him tightly when Harry made to walk to the large white sheet with lumps underneath. It should've anchored him down to the reality of the situation, that they both did this to King's Cross, but all it served to do was make Harry grow irritated.

Therefore, he ignored it. He started walking toward the white sheet, watching as members of the Order poured gasoline over it. He flinched when the flames started and another wail tore through the sky and he paused when he saw Cho's little hand clutching a cross, peeking out from underneath the sheet.

Harry suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

He had been holding that hand last night. She was still a little girl and all Harry had cared for was finding a grown man last night, who could've fended for himself whereas she couldn't have. It dawned in on Harry, for the first time in years, how wrong Tom and Harry had both been to even think coming here was a good idea.

These people had invited them in their town. These people had offered them a home and a fair deal.

And this is what came from it.

The flames hadn't reached Cho not quite yet and Harry numbly, almost robotically, bent down and took the necklace from her hand. He looked over his shoulder when the woman cried again and saw she resembled Cho – without even thinking twice he walked over to her.

'I'm sorry,' he said, his voice cracking with deep regret.

_Pretty and lonely._

The words rung in his head yet he could only apply them to this woman who stared at him with pained, bloodshot eyes. When Harry glanced down at her he realized she looked sickly pale but he was uncertain if that was because she was sick, or because she _felt_ sick right now. Harry understood the need to burn the bodies to ashes – if the Order wouldn't, 90 percent of those bodies would rise again and destroy what was left of this place. But that didn't mean this woman could see that.

She was kneeling on the ground so Harry kneeled as well, watching as she just kept staring at him with wide brown eyes. There was dirt caked to her face as well – Harry didn't even want to know how he looked himself. Harry clasped the necklace around her neck, his eyes lingering on hers. He vaguely remembered Ginny having done the same and his fingers briefly brushed over the cross around his neck.

'Harry.'

He broke eye contact with her and looked at Tom. Tom had torn off a strap off his shirt and had bound it around his arm, keeping it out of view. Maybe he had stitched it himself already. Harry didn't know how long he had sat here, staring at this woman. Undoubtedly intimidating her.

Harry nodded tightly and got up. His legs shook a bit and he didn't reach for a knife this time, when she gripped his wrist.

'Thank you,' she rasped. Harry just nodded again and started walking to Tom. He couldn't even figure out where he wanted to begin with talking to Tom about this all. What was there left to say or do? Maybe the best would be to just grab their things and leave this place. Try to move on again.

Harry shouldn't have been surprised at seeing the members of the Order of the Phoenix behind Tom. They all wore the same white marks – a cross with wings, Harry figured – on their shirts and their eyes were aimed mostly at Tom, judging him. Harry's weary eyes slid over their faces, and then back to Tom, who stood there with an unreadable expression on his face.

The girl with the pink hair was yelling and screaming, her eyes red and her cheeks wet with her tears. She abruptly gripped a knife, charging at Tom who instantly grabbed his gun. Kingsley was quick to stop her.

'Let go!' she screamed. 'Let go! This is all his fault!'

Harry gripped Tom's hand and stood before him, the need to protect him overcoming him even if Tom was almost twice his height.  
  
'They're just stories, Tonks! There's nothing you can do!'

Harry's grip tightened. He could've understood if they would've just blamed the pair for this mess. Truth to be told Tom and Harry were responsible, weren't they? The Brotherhood had been looking for them. They had been fine with the Order of the Phoenix, probably, because they served the same God. The only differences had been that the Order was only violent to zombies.

'What stories?' he asked softly.

'You monster!' the girl named Tonks continued, 'they're looking for you, you could've saved all these people!'

'There's nothing he could've done, if you want to put the blame on anyone then just put it on me because it's my fault the Brotherhood is chasing us to begin with!' Harry snapped back at her. The look in her eyes wavered before she shook her head and choked out a bitter laugh. She was losing it. It strangely reminded Harry of Tom, when he had found Harry last night... Come to think of it, why had his mouth tasted of blood?

'You don't even know, do you? You don't even know what he is.'

The members of the Order glared at her, willing her to shut up, but she didn't seem to care.

'Tonks-'

'He has the antidote! The cure!' She wildly interrupted a middle aged man with red hair, her own whipping around her face when she turned to look at him.

'Enough, Nymphadora!' A man with ugly scars on his face approached her, his cane making soft noises every time it connected to the ground. He was limping, still Harry found him intimidating; his blue eye (he was missing one) cold and his hair blonde and shaggy. Tom's arm curled possessively around Harry's waist – did he actually growl? – and Harry pressed himself more into Tom's side, hand hovering above a knife hidden in his waistband. 'Attacking these two won't make Remus come back and you know it!'

Tonks released a soft sob and wrapped her arms around herself, pressing her face into Kingsley's chest who patted her back.

Harry's eyes stared at her, ready to strike if she would start attacking again, but it never came. She just remained there, suddenly looking so much smaller. Her knife dropped to the ground with a soft thunk.

'You.' Both Tom and Harry rose their chins defiantly the moment the one eyed man stood before them.

'Not you. The tall one,' the man said dismissively to Harry. Harry bristled and felt his cheeks heat up in frustration, scowling. 'Come with me. We need to talk.'

'You can do it right here,' Harry snapped. Tom's eyebrow rose. 'This is about me too. I'm with him. Either you talk to the both of us or you don't talk to him at all.'

The man snorted. 'You're just a shitty kid, you think you can order me around?'

Harry thought he heard the redheaded woman gasp  _Alastor_!, but he couldn't be too sure. He just kept glaring up in his eye, seeing his own face reflected in it and he was briefly shocked at the amount of blood clinging to his skin. When he moved too much it would fall off his skin in thick, dry, brown flakes.

'Well you're just a shitty old man, think you can boss me around?' Harry retorted. He was surprised when the man named Alastor snorted and clasped a hand around his shoulder, hearing Tom growl again. His nails dug into Harry's hip.

'Fine. But I'm gonna shoot yer head off if you get in the way.'

Just like that. Like Harry's life was disposable.

Tom snarled at him and was about to make a comment but Harry just pressed a hand against his chest, a soft plea for him to hold his tongue. Normally Harry would be in Tom's position. Normally he'd already be yelling every obscenity known to man. But the secrecy, the confusion... Harry needed to know things. No matter how bad his body shook with the need to harm.

'Why do you think he has the antidote?' Harry asked icily, finding the idea alone preposterous. If there had been an antidote the world wouldn't have been in such a pile of shit, why couldn't these people see that as well? It was clear to him that these people obviously believed it to be true but this Tonks person had outed it, like it had been some sort of secret. They had discussed this behind Tom's back.

And then it dawned in on Harry. If the Order thought this to be true, then they weren't just 'good' people. They were 'good' people with a goal - to gain the antidote and thereby the upper hand. More control meant more people drawn to the safety that accompanied it. They hadn't wanted Tom and Harry to stick around to hunt for them. They had wanted Tom to stay until he gave them the antidote.

The Brotherhood had just been more direct. If Tom were to die then the antidote would've disappeared and the zombies could've continued  _purifying_ the world.

Tom had known this and had wanted to use them, play along, until he got what he needed. 

Harry had been left out of all of this.

To his surprise it was Tom to answer.

'The virus was created with the purpose to build the perfect army,' Tom spat at Alastor's feet and the older man sneered at him, while Harry turned to look at his boyfriend. He looked personally offended. 'No God involved at all. Just humanity and science.' 

Fair enough, Harry had expected so much but why would they think Tom of all people had the antidote? Harry knew a lot of people knew of the both of them - they had kind of built up a name with the way they constantly survived against all odds. He had heard of the stories about them, most of them being a load of bullshit. Were they so desperate that they started believing in those lies as well?

'What do you mean?' Harry asked. It wasn't a direct answer to his question but Tom was getting to it, at least – explaining things that Harry needed to know in order to understand the answer. It wasn't like Tom to be vague, not now.

'The virus makes your cells regenerate very quickly, makes you heal very fast. Unfortunately that also means that the brain cells get regenerated too quickly to build up information – if that goes on for too long something just snaps, just like that –' Tom snapped his fingers and Harry jumped a bit at the sharp noise, '- and you won't even remember your own name. You'll turn into something that is dependent of its own basic instincts.'

It was the first time he had gotten such a specific answer. He had always known it was bad - goddammit Harry had lost his family because of it - but he had never heard this. He supposed it could make sense though Harry hadn't really been taught biology at school just yet. He would've started his first year of high school after the summer the virus broke out.

'How do you know all of this?' Harry asked. Tom looked down at him, before he averted his eyes again. It was the first question he left unanswered in a very long time.

'Tell him,' Alastor snapped. Tom scowled at him darkly but did as told. Harry vaguely wondered why he would listen to this man.

'My father was the one to create the virus. He killed my little brother while using more and more of his DNA and cells to experiment, and after he was done he started using me for the antidote.'

Harry's eyes widened in shock.

Tom's aggressive reactions when Harry tried asking him about his family. What Tom had said about his little brother on Harry's birthday.

_By the time he died there wasn't much left of his face._

The rest of the Order didn't seem surprised and Harry reckoned that was because they had already known. Underneath all the shock he felt betrayed somehow, at having these strangers know about this all while Harry himself, Tom's lover, hadn't. Of course these people had done their research and knew these things. But Tom should've told Harry, goddammit.

Harry felt betrayed and for a moment he just couldn't say a thing.

'You're Tom Riddle,' the girl with the pink hair finally said, and Harry turned to her, almost forgotten she was there at all. The tears were now falling freely from her eyes again, 'you're the only one test subject who didn't mutate or went berserk.' Tom dragged his eyes up and the expression in them was absolutely murderous. Harry's throat tightened up and he looked at him. 'Your blood could save millions of people – the antidote is right there, in your veins. Your DNA merged with that of them, we saw the test results. We know what happened with your brother - he didn't die naturally, they had to put a bullet through his head!'

_By the time he died there wasn't much left of his face._

It slowly came to Harry.

Tom's constant need to kill. His need to fornicate – procreation, Harry reminded himself – and his need to feed. The need to keep what was his – Harry – safe, untouched.

Tom's entire life was based around those basic instincts. Everyone's lives had been these past 4 years, mostly, so maybe that was why Harry hadn't noticed this before. But Tom's bloodlust was bigger than anyone's. Tom's sexual cravings were – the way he didn't pull out and had that fascination with keeping his come inside of Harry even if Harry couldn't get pregnant. The way he got aggressive when Harry got in his personal space or in the driver's seat without being told to.

The way he had looked when he lost Harry in the crowd. Harry would never forget that look in his eyes. It had been borderline insane. The taste of blood in his mouth... Oh God. That was it, wasn't it? Harry thought he was going to be sick. It hadn't been Tom's own blood on his lips at all. The madness had gotten to Tom.

He had been  _eating_.

But what also dawned in on Harry was the possibility of an antidote.

He could've saved Harry's parents. Moms, dads, kids, lovers. He could've saved them all.

But he let them die.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

The way Tom drawled the words was too careless and Tom's face was a mask of indifference. Harry's stomach lurched when he looked at those lips. He had kissed those lips right after Tom had been doing _that_.

So that's why Tom sometimes gave Harry his portions of food and never seemed to lose weight.

'Those are all myths. I know what my father did, I know what my brother died for and I know what I have given my own blood for. It is not my blood that makes me strong, it's my knowledge and my strength and Harry.'

He was lying. He was a liar and Harry hated him and his head was spinning as he remembered all the strange things about Tom he had never questioned before.

He could've saved mom. Why hadn't he?

The girl opened her mouth again, but eventually she closed it and looked away with an angry look in her eyes.

'Come, Harry. We're leaving.'

Tom held his hand out to Harry and Harry took it almost automatically. He didn't want to act like a child, not in front of all those people. All he could think of now was that these were hands that hadn't just killed out of necessity - they had killed for pleasure. They had ripped skin apart and those lips of his? They had been stretched over skin before those white teeth of his had ripped chunks out of it.

Once they were out of view Harry shoved Tom away.

'Don't even think about it,' he simply hissed when Tom reached out to him again. Tom's face hardened.

'Fine. Be like that, ungrateful brat,' Tom hissed in return like there was nothing wrong. Like this was some small stupid fight. Harry paused and before he even knew it he was charging forward, fists balled at his sides. Ungrateful? How many times had he saved Tom's ass? How many times had he brought danger upon himself just to ensure Tom's safety? He punched Tom square in the jaw but didn't manage to do anything else; Tom gripped his wrist so tightly Harry could swear he could feel his bones grind together.

He grit his teeth and snarled at him.

'Go right ahead. Break it,' he dared him. Tom's eyes narrowed and his nails dug into tender skin. 'In the end you're nothing better than your father, killing people that easily and -'

The slap came unexpected, and it made Harry stumble on his feet and snapped him out of his angry state all at once. His eyes grew wide and his cheek instantly began stinging. It was nothing compared to the physical pain Harry had endured these past years. He has had it all – the infected wounds, broken bones, split lips and bruises. He could handle a slap; it was absolutely nothing.

But it was the first sort of pain Tom had ever inflicted upon Harry on purpose. Without pleasure following it anyway.

'Never compare me to that man,' Tom said to him, his eyes dark, eyebrows drawn together. Harry slowly lifted his head again, lips trembling. He surprised the both of them by barking out a small laugh. His cheek ached with it and he could feel a bruise forming already.

He felt hollow. Absolutely hollow. The creatures he had been running from? He had been killing them by hiding behind one of their own.

_Tom is a liar. He is a liar. And why did he keep Harry around? Did he decide it'd be fun indulging Harry by running from things that wouldn't be capable of harming him at all?_

'Or what?' Harry dared him. It suddenly just felt like he had nothing left to lose. 'Tom you're one of them! Don't think I didn't taste the blood when you kissed me last night!' Harry should've been concerned about how he was outing the nature of their relationship, their sexualities. He should've been thinking clearly. But he couldn't. He felt sick and jaded and betrayed and used.

'Don't push me, Harry,' Tom growled. His voice was low, like a growl, and his blue eyes were mad. Absolutely mad. He was losing it again. Harry wondered what would happen if he'd push that temper. Would Tom kill him and then eat him as well?

'Forget it.'

He turned around and started walking away. Most of all, he felt heartbreak. He loved this man. He supposed that if he hadn't, it wouldn't have hurt this much. He needed to be alone and think.

'So you're just going to walk away?' Tom called after he had taken a couple of steps. Harry shrugged and briefly looked over his shoulder.

'It seems that that is how you like to handle your shit, isn't it? Violence and walking away. Great job, Tom. Truly. Your dad would be proud of you.'

'You son of a bitch,' Tom sneered. 'You filthy – you have no right of comparing me to that man! I am nothing like him!'

'You sure do a shitty job at proving me, Tom!' Harry whirled around again and Tom shoved him in the chest, making him stumble. Harry continued to stand, pushing Tom in return. It barely made a difference.

'I don't have to prove you anything! I owe you nothing!'

'Then why are you still with me? Just go, then! If you don't want to be a part of my life then just get the hell out of it and leave. Me. Alone!'

The words were out before Harry realized what he had said and his breaths came out in pants, his chest heaving up and down, his hands and lips quivering. A tense silence fell upon them and Harry realized that everyone could've heard what he had said. From up this close, Harry could see the betrayal in Tom's eyes, the surprise. Harry already regret what he had said and he could tell Tom did as well, but they were both far too proud to admit it.

'Is that what you want?' Tom finally asked, quietly, though his voice had never held this much emotion. Anger. Hurt.

Harry said nothing in return.

'Is that what you want, Harry?' Tom repeated. 'Do you want me to leave you here with these people?'

'What I _want_ never makes a difference, you always do whatever you want,' Harry said icily. He had to angle his head up for him and Tom had to look down on him.

Tom always looked down on Harry.

Bitter resentment bubbled up in Harry's chest and he took a deep breath, his nails digging into the palms of his hands.

'Go, if you really want.'

'Don't think I won't,' Tom threatened him. Still, he didn't move away from Harry.

'Then what are you waiting for, huh?' Harry's voice trembled and he felt himself choking up. He had been taught throughout these years that Tom meant safety. Security. It was like his body wanted to lean forward instinctively, wrap himself up in Tom's arms to hide. Tom had always been so intelligent. He had always known what to do. It was so cruel that Tom was right now the problem and that Harry couldn't ask guidance of him at all.

'I guess that whatever it was, it certainly wasn't worth it.' It was an extremely low blow and it was horribly hurtful, making Harry's heart constrict in his chest and he bit his lip to keep from saying anything else. Tom stared at him and looked like he wanted to add something else but Harry just turned around and started walking away, hurt gnawing at his chest.

'No, I guess it wasn't,' he murmured to himself. He didn't look back, and Tom turned around and walked away with an angry scowl on his face.


	8. See They Don't Give A Fuck About You

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 8

_**'See They Don't Give A Fuck About You'** _

Harry Potter, age 17 and new member of the Order of the Phoenix, did not need Tom Riddle. Harry Potter was strong and independent. A lover? What would he need a lover for? He could do without Tom. He was fine – he still went hunting, slept well. He was  _fine_.

And so what if Tom was all he could think about? So what if it felt strange to walk streets by himself and _so what_ if it felt like he was missing a piece of himself? He was pretty much an adult now. He could handle himself. He was smart and did enough to keep himself and the Order alive. People were grateful for his presence and Harry was useful and valued.

He didn't need Tom.

Not at all.

'Sweetheart, you're doing it again.'

Harry glanced up from where he had been skinning a rabbit to Molly, who sighed and offered him a tired smile. The elderly woman had been hanging a lot around him recently, always touching his shoulder and trying to give him support he didn't need. He was okay. And he sure as hell didn't need her God either.

'What?' he asked and when he noticed the rude tone in his voice he winced. 'What is it?' he repeated, voice gentler this time. Molly sighed again and sat down next to him, ruffling his hair.

'You're frowning again.'

Harry relaxed his face and went back to the task at hand, feeling her hand rest on his shoulder. Her body heat spread through his shirt and sweat dripped from his brow, but he was unsure if he was bothered by it all. He didn't think he could be bothered by trivial things when so many other important things kept running through his mind. Had he been repeating their last conversation in his head? Sure he had. It'd be stupid if he wouldn't have. Harry wasn't heartless, after all.

It just shouldn't have been that easy for Tom to leave.

'Do you miss him?'

'I'm fine,' Harry insisted, feeling offended by the question. Who the hell asks those kinds of things anyway? It was none of her business. This was between Tom and him. No one else.

…Or was it?

'You don't look fine.'

'I said I'm fine!'

He turned his head and glared at her, taking in the shocked expression on her face and instantly feeling guilty. Harry made a frustrated noise, slumping his shoulders and dropping his knife to the ground before resting his forehead in his hands. This hurt. He was frustrated, confused. Lonely. He hated himself for not hearing out Tom's side of the story and he hated Tom for walking away that easily.

'It's his fault. Not mine. I have nothing to do with him anymore.'

And how disgusting did those words taste on his lips. Harry's mind seemed to enjoy torturing him – making him remember all the finer details of the good times he had with Tom. Distance made the heart grow fonder, they said. Harry supposed they were right.

But he was still convinced that he was fine.

No matter how much his heart ached in want, it didn't change how Tom had lied to him. It wouldn't change what Tom was right now. The Order had explained it to him though admittedly he hadn't been listening that well. Apparently Tom was still human. Mostly.

Harry had seen his test results. Tom's father, the man who had created Tom had first inserted the virus into him and then the antivirus. Tom's little brother had changed into a zombie – the first version of the antivirus had been too weak. He had been shot in the face and the autopsy photos had sickened Harry. Half of Voldemort's face had just been blown off and his skin had been pale and waxy. Like it had been melting off his bones, indicating he had been a test subject a long time before his death.

The second version of the antivirus hadn't been strong enough to be capable of fighting the virus either. Instead it had allowed the virus to merge with Tom's own DNA – changing him, somehow. The antivirus had taught Tom's body to cope with it and the Order had said that Harry should see it like maybe a split personality. He was struggling every day with the virus that had been injected directly into him. When Tom lost control, the zombie took over. Like it had done that night, and who knew how many times before?

Molly's kind brown eyes rested on his face and he realized he felt tired all of a sudden. Must be the sun – he had been out here for a couple of hours. Maybe a nap would do him good… Preferably, he'd like to wake up when everything was okay again.

When his heart would stop aching.

'He hasn't left the area, you know,' she finally said and Harry froze at that. 'Kingsley ran into him yesterday. He was hunting.'

Harry's jaw tensed.

'So? I don't care,' he murmured. He wrapped his arms around himself and winced when Molly reached out and touched his cheek, the one that Tom had slapped. Was it strange that Harry didn't want her to touch it because that could take away the remembrance of Tom's touch?

'Yes you do. I can see it. Harry – nowadays you can't afford being stubborn. We both know how dangerous it can be. What if he dies tomorrow?'

'He won't.' Tom was a survivor. He wouldn't die that easily. Harry was convinced of that. It would take a lot to take Tom Riddle down and a bit of loneliness wasn't going to do the trick.

If he's lonely at all, without me around.

'And what if he gets hurt?' she asked softly. Harry snorted.

'Like he'd ever get bitten,' he said, bitterly amused at her stupidity. Ridiculous. Tom could spot a zombie from miles away and he could kill one in mere few seconds. Tom was a strong person, he would manage.

_'It is not my blood that makes me strong, it's my knowledge and my strength and Harry.'_

Harry winced at that memory. No, indeed it was not Tom's blood. Stupid how Harry had believed that.

'He could've told me,' Harry argued, feeling ridiculous for having had his hope settled on Tom's blood. Stupid – how had he even expected it to work? Inserting Tom's blood in someone else's body and hoping it would work? Like some kind of disease? It would only work for Tom anyway. It had merged with his DNA after all. Harry was pretty sure that trying to merge your DNA with that of a complete stranger wouldn't have a good outcome.

'I don't think you've tried to understand Tom enough. He didn't grow up in a loving family like you. His father did experiments on his own children. His brother died. Isn't that enough for you to make clear that Tom has difficulty trusting other people?' Harry opened and closed his mouth, but he didn't reply. His cheeks suddenly felt warm in shame because no, he hadn't thought of it. He had been so focused on the thought of Tom and Harry – them, that he had forgotten all about the fact that when separate, they were two persons. Not one.

Even if Harry didn't feel like one whole person at the moment.

Still, Molly couldn't say this all out of the kindness of her own heart. No... There must be a reason why she spent so much time by his side...

'You want me to find him,' Harry murmured. His voice was monotone. Molly nodded.

'I do,' she said. He turned his head to look at her.

'What's in it for you?' He secretly already knew what she wanted. And he knew that the Order wanted this of him too. That was the only reason why they kept him around.

'We need his blood, Harry.' Molly released a bitter laugh. 'That sounds strange, doesn't it? But we only require a small amount, enough to do research. We have all the things we need. He wouldn't even feel a thing.'

They wanted Harry to lure Tom in and betray him. Like he had betrayed Harry. The worst was that a bitter part of Harry wanted to do this, too, just to get even with him. She patted his knee and smiled sadly at him. 'You will get him back and we will be able to save our people. Everyone wins. God has a plan for you, Harry Potter, and this may be it. Don't make the same mistake I made with Ginny.'

Harry blinked up at her in surprise. Ginny… Was Ginny actually Molly's daughter? A part of him wanted to ask questions, but in the end he didn't. He had more important things to worry about so he nodded wordlessly, a heavy feeling settling itself in the pit of his stomach. He wished he could tell Molly that he didn't deserve her kindness – that Harry had allowed Ginny to get caught and used by the Brotherhood. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and began gathering his things.

Even if she was kind, Harry felt resentment to her, too. 

_God has a plan for you…_

Is that so? Then Harry doubting him would undoubtedly be a part of his plan as well. He started wondering where Tom was, though he was unsure if he was ready to face him yet.

* * *

That night when Harry was alone in the shower – cold because warm water was still too much of a luxury – he cried. He cried for his parents and for Tom, for the loneliness in his very soul. He pressed his forehead against the tile wall and sobbed, his hands shaking fists at his sides.

He was fine. He was Harry potter, 17 years old, 18 in a year from now, he had seen things people wouldn't even dare to dream about. He was strong and independent. It was a mantra he had been repeating in his head for the past couple of hours and he honestly believed it to be true. It had to be. He would've died a long time ago if it hadn't been.

Still his mind went back to all the things Tom had said, all the times they had kissed, the times Tom had tried to fight the animal inside of him for Harry. The time he had asked Harry how to know when you loved someone-

I love you so fucking much.

Harry choked on his spit as his mind suddenly put it all together. Tom had told him he loved him that night. He had just been too stupid not to listen. Too stupid to not hear him out. Too caught up in his own opinion. And now? Now Harry actually thought he was going to be capable of betraying him? Who was he trying to kid? It was over and done with. Tom wouldn't have been capable of leaving him that easily if he had felt even half of what Harry had felt for him.

Unless he did it to protect you.

Did he? Harry didn't know. He felt numbed. He could recall Tom walking away, always, when he got mad. Now Harry just wondered if he had done it all those times because he hadn't wanted to hurt Harry. If he had done it because he knew what he got like when he lost control over his rational side.

If he had left all those times not because he was a coward, but because he would've killed Harry otherwise.

Harry stepped out of the shower and dressed himself robotically. Where were his glasses? He couldn't recall ever taking them off. Maybe they were in the bedroom. He leaned against the sink and closed his eyes tightly, trying to breathe properly. His nose felt stuffy. He couldn't remember when he had last cried and his eyes hurt - everything hurt. Harry stared at his reflection and winced at how pitiful he looked.

He wasn't fine at all.

Harry closed his eyes tightly and tried to think of his possibilities. The Order was kind, but not his home. The Brotherhood? It was completely centered on Grindelwald. Take their leader down and the rest would follow. Those people could join the Order. Harry tried to think like Tom even though he knew he wouldn't care for the remaining people. He'd only care for Grindelwald, who had shamed him. Who had chased him down like he had been a mere rabbit.

Harry needed to find Tom before he got to Grindelwald. An aggressive Tom wasn't an intelligent Tom, and the last Harry wanted to happen was for Tom to actually get hurt. He wouldn't allow the Brotherhood that pleasure and he selfishly didn't want to go through the pain of having to lose him for good. They were only apart temporarily, Harry thought to himself.

Harry opened his eyes and stared at his reflection again. So what was he going to do?

He was going to find Tom, run away with him, kill Grindelwald and never talk to another human being again. Everyone was only in it for themselves in this world. It was time for Harry to take on that state of mind as well.

Harry rubbed the tears from his face and walked out of the bathroom, naked, slowly dressing himself. Now that he had a goal set out for himself he could try to distract himself from all these emotions he didn't need right now. He needed to be strong.

For Tom.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel water clinging to his hair but it would dry soon enough. Harry tried to list the things they'd need. Motorcycle. He had seen one of those around town. If he'd tell the Order that he was going to look for Tom they'd let him have one and just go without a doubt. They were that desperate and it still didn't weigh well on his mind to betray these people.

But then he remembered that they wanted him to betray Tom.

And suddenly it didn't feel so bad anymore.

* * *

Surprisingly it was Tom to find him first.

Harry had been at the outskirts of town, sitting in a tree and trying to come up with a plan when his eyes caught sight of movement. Harry moved quickly, grabbing his bow and arrow and aiming it to where the movement came from but then he froze, watching as Tom came in view. Their eyes connected and Tom just stared at him, gaze never wavering. Harry's heart skipped a beat and he lowered his weapons again.

Tom sat down right where Harry could see him, wordlessly, legs crossed. His gaze was not begging nor apologetic, but it wasn't threatening either. Technically speaking Tom could come and get him right away.

But it seemed like he wanted Harry to take the final steps.

For a moment Harry gazed at him. He hadn't actually thought he'd never see Tom again – it would've been a mere matter of time. Still it felt like a relief to see him here.

When Harry jumped out of the tree it was ungraceful and he got up instantly, marching over to where Tom was sitting, dropping to his knees and then wrapping his arms around Tom so hard and holding him so sudden that he knocked Tom over. Tom released a soft grunt while Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to be a man about it all. He didn't seem to be capable of instantly apologizing, though. This had been all his fault after all.

'I'm so sorry,' Harry started, 'I just – God, I'm so glad you're okay.' Harry pulled away and placed his hands on Tom's cheeks and Tom let him, his eyes boring holes into Harry's skull. Harry didn't care very much. 'I'm so glad you didn't leave yet. Grindelwald – we can take him on together. Okay? You're not doing this alone. I won't let you. I was stupid, and I need to hear your side of the story and I-'

'How did you know I was going after Grindelwald?' Harry stopped talking. God, Tom looked so tired. So weary.

'Because I know you,' he admitted. He shook his head. 'These past days… it has been hell. Without you. They wanted me to convince you to give your blood and I don't want to do that, I don't trust them -'

'They what?' Tom bristled.

Harry shook his head. 'It's okay, I – I ran away today. We don't need them. We're going to kill Grindelwald and then we're going to find a nice place to live and be happy. Together.'

'It's not okay!' Tom snapped. Harry paused, a bit taken aback.

'Why not?' he asked. Was Tom still mad at him?

'Because I am done!' Tom finally snapped, his eyes dark and so expressive it almost hurt Harry to look into them. 'I am done being chased down! They have absolutely no fucking right and I am going to kill that bastard and then I'm going to burn down King's Cross!'

Harry moved a bit from Tom away, his eyes wide. He had expected Tom to be angry. But like this? So aggressive and out of control? 'Why are you so angry now, Tom? They've been at this for weeks.' Harry tried to keep his voice down even though he personally felt like going on a murderous rampage now as well. It took Tom a while to reply and when he did his voice was quiet, low.

'Time isn't on my side anymore.' It was all he said yet it seemed to take Tom a lot of effort to do so, and it made Harry grow wary. He shifted from his position on top of him.

'Then why did it take you so long to come for me?' Harry asked. 'Didn't you want me anymore?'

Tom's grip tightened on Harry possessively. 'Don't be ridiculous. I was plotting. Right now I was just thinking to myself that if you would still be angry I'd simply knock you out and steal you away.' Harry's eyes widened. Tom would've… he would've kidnapped him?

'You would.' The moment he said it he knew it to be true, too. Tom was too obsessed with him. They were both too caught up with one another. Tom really did leave to protect him, the other day. Tom said nothing but the look in his eyes was enough and Harry's eyes slid over him, his eyebrows drawn in confusion.

'The Order told me about what they did to you,' he murmured. Tom's eyes just bored into him, feeling like a caress in its own intensity. 'About what he did to you.'

'I'm fine,' Tom instantly said, almost defensively. Harry fought the need to snort – they were just so similar. Too prideful. It'd surely be their downfall, one day, but now all it did was amuse Harry.

'I know you are. You're a strong person – strongest person I've met,' Harry reassured him, smiling. Still there was one thing on his mind - one thing he hadn't been capable of asking the Order, partially because he hadn't been too sure if their reactions would endanger his safety and partially because he just hadn't been sure if they would've had an answer for him. 'But I have a question. It's about me.'

'What is it?'

'They… the virus is in you. You lost control that night and it took you over. It was because you were desperate, right?' It wasn't the question Harry wanted an answer to so he continued talking. 'The Order told me that your body and the antidote, the antivirus, had been a perfect match and that the virus is harmless inside of you. That a bite from you wouldn't infect someone and that only if they were to take in your blood directly it could be dangerous because it's not sure how much of the virus is in it. They want your blood to do research because they're convinced the answer to all their prayers is right in your body.'

He paused, to see if Tom was catching his drift.

'You're asking me if it's sexually transmittable,' Tom finally concluded. Harry said nothing in reply but he did shift awkwardly, nodding slowly while Tom's blue eyes gazed at him, feeling naked somehow. 'Do you have any strange cravings? Aggressive tendencies?'

Harry's eyebrows drew together in thought. Yes, he had been more snappy than usual, he supposed. He just wasn't sure if that was because of Tom's absence or something else. 'Give me your arm,' Tom murmured. Harry instantly stretched it out and Tom reached for a knife.

'How long does it normally take you to heal from a cut?' Tom asked him. Harry bit his lip and shook his head.

'Two weeks, I guess.' Harry didn't even mind when Tom brought the knife down to the limb, trusting Tom not to hurt him more than necessary. He hissed when Tom slid the knife over his skin, slowly, blood bubbling up at the surface. A hungry look slid over his lover's features.

'This'll be gone tomorrow if I infected you,' he said, voice suddenly low. Harry looked at him in mild confusion before he realized his blood was affecting Tom. Tom was usually quite capable of controlling himself because he wasn't surrounded by a lot of people bleeding at the same time. However, that night in King's Cross… it had been a bloodbath. Tom looked like he still wasn't as strong as he usually was. Harry held out his wrist.

'Take it,' he said. Tom looked at him with dilated blue eyes. 'You're hungry, aren't you?'

Tom pushed Harry's hand away with a scoff. 'I'm not like them,' he said, sounding insulted but even so his eyes lingered on Harry's eyes just a bit. 'I'm not a monster.'

Harry blinked at him. 'I – I didn't think you were,' he stammered. He reached behind him and started rummaging through his bag, taking out the loaf of bread he had stolen. Maybe Tom wouldn't be this irritated if he had a full stomach again and besides, it wasn't like Harry couldn't go hunting or something. He had just taken it with him because it had been such a long time since he had had actual bread. He had never thought it to become a luxury, some day.

'Here, at least have this then.' He smiled playfully and Tom's eyebrow rose when he held out his wrist again. 'You can dip it if you'd like.'

'Insufferable brat,' Tom grunted. He tore a chunk off and started eating anyway, and Harry watched him for a while. Tom looked like he had gone through hell – underneath his eyes were dark rings, his skin was sickly pale, sweat clinging to his brow. His hair was messy as well and his cheeks were gaunt, as if he hadn't eaten in a while. Harry wondered why. Tom had taught him how to hunt and which plants were edible, so it couldn't have been that Tom hadn't been capable of finding any food.

'Tom, are you hurt?'

'I'm in perfect health,' Tom suddenly snapped and Harry blinked, taken aback by his sudden outburst. Tom released an aggravated growl and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed so out of control. So different somehow and Harry could feel his eyebrows knitting together in a frown. Tom shoved the bread back into Harry's backpack and then got up, patting his pants to get rid of any of the dry leaves clinging onto it.

Harry's eyes scanned over Tom's frame, looking at him a bit closer. He didn't have any wounds, safe from –

His arm. His arm that he hadn't wanted Harry to touch.

'Tom let me see your arm,' Harry said, standing up as well. Tom sneered at him and stepped away when Harry stepped closer, making Harry feel frustrated. 'Let me see your arm!'

'Get away from me before I hurt you, Harry!' Tom snapped. The tone in his voice was nothing but threatening but it didn't help keeping Harry from stepping closer at all. If anything, it just made Harry feel concern above his frustration. Tom usually never hid his wounds from Harry and Harry secretly already knew. He could feel it somewhere in his gut that whatever Tom was hiding underneath that bandage, was going to be something that would break Harry's heart.

'I love you.' Harry said calmly, his voice trembling. Tom's eyes lingered on him, as though looking for a reason for him to lie. But Harry wasn't lying to him. Harry reached out slowly as if approaching a dangerous animal, his fingers brushing over the makeshift bandage. Tom's hands clasped over his own when they got too close but he wasn't threatening anymore.

'Harry don't,' he said. No, this time he was almost pleading Harry. But for what? The need to reassure strangely overcame Harry so he began doing exactly that, hoping for the best.

'We're going to kill Grindelwald, together,' Harry murmured, 'we're going to bring the Brotherhood down. We're not helping the Order.' Tom's hands relaxed and Harry slowly started working on the knot, keeping his eyes on Tom's. His eyes were bloodshot, making that beautiful blue stand out even more. 'We're in this together. We're going to grow old together.' He slowly unwrapped Tom's arm, but still didn't look at the wound. He could practically feel the heat radiating from Tom's body and he was reminded of how tall Tom was and how far he had to lift his chin to be able to look him in the eye.

'I'm not like your dad.' Tom's eyes narrowed at him and Harry regretted having compared him to that man. He was still bitter over that. 'And neither are you. We can trust each other. Okay?'

His hands were shaking so bad he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Tom's lips brushed over Harry's forehead and his hand rested on Harry's shoulder, a comforting weight. When Harry opened his eyes again Tom nodded tightly. They glanced down together although there was no doubt in his mind that Tom had already studied the wound, had poked and prodded at it.

The moment Harry caught sight of the bite marks, the world just stopped. Harry vaguely felt himself sinking down, his eyes wide, his chest hollow. Absolutely hollow.

'You've been bitten.' It was all Harry could choke out. Tom just stared at him, suddenly looking so tired, so sick. He didn't say a word.

But Harry didn't need confirmation to know it's true.

'It doesn't have to mean anything. Normal people would've turned by now.' Still those words didn't seem reassuring at all and Harry's throat felt tight. The antivirus wasn't stopping the process and it wouldn't any time soon, either. Tom had been at his limit with his first dose of the virus.

The antivirus was only slowing the process down. Allowing Harry to watch Tom wither away.

'I- How?' Harry choked out. This wasn't like Tom. They had survived for four years without getting even so much as a small scratch from a zombie. Tom had fought for both their lives in that first year, when Harry hadn't been fully independent just yet. The memory of Molly Weasley asking him what if? rose suddenly and he remembered how he had felt amused at her stupidity. How he had believed Tom to be some sort of superman.

But what Tom failed to acknowledge, most of the time, was that Tom was just human above all. So painfully human and mortal.

'I lost control,' Tom murmured. 'The blood – the smell… it got to me. There was a girl at my feet… she was dying anyway. She hadn't been bitten but there had been a pipe through her body, accidentally undoubtedly.' Harry just stared, remembering the crazed look in Tom's eyes. The taste of blood in his mouth. 'I couldn't think anymore. So I sat down by her side and she gripped my hand. You know what she said?' Tom released a dark chuckle and Harry kept silent. His entire body was shaking. 'She asked me for help. She asked me to kill her. And there was so much blood, I was suddenly so hungry, I… I ripped off her fingers with my teeth. She was still alive by the time I ripped chunks of flesh out of her arm.'

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. He pressed a hand against his mouth and closed his eyes, taking a deep steadying breath. The tone in Tom's voice was almost cynical when he continued. 'And then one of those fuckers – it just sat down across me. Eating from her as well. Ignoring me like I was one of them.'

'Tom, sto-'

'And I remember that that feeling of possessiveness overcame me. I had found her first. She was mine. So I pulled the pipe, the one that was still warm with her blood and sticky with her intestines, out of her stomach and I stabbed it into his chest. And then he bit me.' Harry's eyes strayed over to the wound again. There was dark green puss flowing from it, the skin around it tattered and shaded in colors of blue and red and purple. Tom's veins were bulging. 'It wasn't a deep bite. He didn't even tear off a chunk of my flesh like I had done with her.'

'But a bite, no matter how small, is all that it takes,' Harry whispered, repeating the exact same words Tom had told him four years ago.

Harry didn't have a lot of fears. He didn't fear zombies because he knew he could kill them. He didn't fear people because he knew he could outsmart them and then kill them. He no longer feared the dark because darkness was fleeting in its own existence. He really only had one fear.

Losing Tom.

For a moment it was hard for Harry to breathe. His mind tried to work properly, tried to come up with a plan. Like bringing Tom back to the Order. Letting them research him, use him as a test subject for the antidote again. But Tom would never do that. Tom would never comply. They both knew they'd put a bullet between his eyes the moment they saw his arm. And with the state it was in right now, there really was no point in even trying to hide the wound. His entire arm looked fucked up.

Infected.

Harry had once seen a girl getting her leg amputated when she had gotten bitten. She had never changed. That'd be the only thing Harry could do… wasn't it? Harry almost automatically, numbly, reached for the knife strapped to his leg. His eyes were dazed, as if stuck in a dream.

'What are you doing?' Tom asked. Harry didn't reply. His eyes were firmly set on Tom's arm. It'd be the only way. He wasn't going to lose Tom. He'd rather have him have just one arm than – 'Harry what are you doing?'

He was so fast on his back all of a sudden, with Tom's boot painfully poised at his wrist that he felt disorientated. He looked up – Tom's arm was bleeding. Had Harry done that? He didn't seem to be capable of registrating anything at the moment.

'Let go!' he yelled, suddenly thrashing around. He wasn't going to let Tom fuck this up. He wasn't going to lose him. He just wasn't! 'Let me go, I'm only trying to help you, I -!'

Harry released a choked breath when Tom's forearm suddenly pressed into his throat, cutting off all of his air. Harry wheezed, his nails digging weakly into Tom's skin, trying for some release. When he looked up and into Tom's eyes he saw that he had the same look in his eyes as he had that night he had gotten bitten.

He looked crazed.

'Cutting off my arm is not going to help either one of us,' Tom growled and Harry's heart fluttered in his chest like a caged bird, ready to crack his ribs open. His body felt so heavy all of a sudden and he thought he was going to die. Tom was going to kill him. 'Do you want me to bleed to death? You stupid idiot, it wouldn't make a difference!'

'Tom-'

'You just never listen to me! You fucking-'

'I'm sorry,' Harry choked, tears finally spilling from his eyes. It had been a ridiculously childish idea. The infection had already spread through Tom's entire body and he was right, so right. He would only bleed to death if Harry would manage to get rid of his arm. Tom abruptly stopped talking while Harry struggled for air, 'I'm sorry, I love you, please – you're choking me, I -'

Tom instantly let go and Harry rolled onto his side, his fingers spasming and grabbing fists full of dry leaves, feeling them crumble beneath his hands. His lungs sucked up precious air while tears still rolled down his face and he could already feel the bruises forming on the tender skin of his neck and his throat. Tom's hands had completely folded over them, effortlessly. He slumped onto the ground and lied there shivering, convinced Tom would kill him now and just rather having it over with. He sobbed softly and flinched when Tom's arms wound around him.

But he wasn't killing Harry. He was holding him to his chest now, pressing his face into the space between Harry's shoulderblades. The cut on his arm, despite it having been deep, no longer bled.

'Why do you have to make this so difficult?' Tom whispered harshly into Harry's ear and Harry just curled more into himself, feeling weak. He didn't feel like he had a reason to be strong anymore because this was real. Tom wouldn't be able to miraculously get himself out of this. This wasn't something Harry or Tom could kill or cheat. This was it, for them.

Tom was going to change and Harry was going to be alone for the rest of his miserable life, to never be the same again.

Tom pulled him up and Harry just turned around in his embrace, holding him, hugging his head to his chest. Strange how they always wound up trying to kill each other when they really needed each other most.

'I don't know,' Harry whispered, his voice trembling. He took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes, closing them, just breathing Tom in for a moment. His entire body was shaking as well. How stupid of him to have actually thought he'd be capable of growing old in a world like this, let alone with another person. Why couldn't people just have left them alone? Why did Grindelwald have to have it out for them?

They sat in silence for a while. Harry didn't know how long, to be exact. Maybe hours, maybe minutes. Eventually Tom got up and offered Harry his hand and Harry took it without a word. He felt numbed. Everything seemed to pass him in a flurry of colors and feelings and sounds and smells.

Harry's arms wound tightly around Tom when he sat down behind him on the motorcycle. The noise it produced was loud, almost painfully so, but even so they were away so fast that it didn't even matter if they drew attention. Harry found himself wishing they would be capable of fleeing this problem as well. Leave it behind. Start over.

They eventually found a safe place to sleep once they were out of Phoenix territory and Harry kept watch while Tom's head was pillowed in his lap. The tall male was asleep, but he made soft noises in this state, as though he was in pain. His eyebrows were drawn together as well and Harry absentmindedly stroked a hand through Tom's hair while making hushing noises, bow and arrows at his side.

His mind wasn't completely working. Oh, he was aware of it all though – he knew what he was doing right now and all of his senses were wide awake. He could clearly feel the bark of the tree he was leaning against digging into his tender skin and he could feel the goose bumps that rose on it as well. The finer hairs on the back of his neck were standing up straight. But there were no thoughts that came upon him.

It was completely silent. Around him, and inside of him. Harry wasn't calm. He was just too shocked to come up with anything useful.

Harry thought of the passionate nights they had spent. About the feeling of Tom sliding inside of him, thick and secure, his arms warm and loving. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against Tom's slightly parted lips and Tom's hand reached up, brushing through Harry's hair. 'You're awake,' Harry whispered. Tom hummed, his eyes half lidded when he gazed up at him.

'So it seems,' Tom drawled. His voice was hoarse and in the moonlight it was easier to pretend that he wasn't sickly pale or had dark circles under his eyes. The signs were all so painfully clear to Harry right now and he felt so ridiculous for having thought it had all been just because Tom hadn't been eating right. They'd gone days without eating in bad times, and Tom had never looked like this before.

Harry's fingers brushed over Tom's temple and Tom's eyes glimmered in the dark before they closed again, an approving purr rumbling low in his throat.

Like a cat, Harry mused. He wished Tom could've stayed like that for the rest of his life.

'How long have I been asleep?' Tom asked. Harry sighed.

'Since noon.' Harry's body felt a bit sluggish and his leg was asleep from having been in the same position for so long. He had watched the sun set by himself – strangely content with Tom sleeping on him though there had been no telling in what state he'd wake. Tom usually never took naps. He either slept at night or didn't sleep at all – he was too restless to just drift off like he had done this afternoon.

Tom's eyes opened again.

'Why didn't you wake me?' his voice sounded genuinely interested, not at all judging. Another thing that proved that he was changing, Harry supposed. Tom went from being tender to being aggressive so quickly.

'You looked like you needed it. I didn't… I didn't want to put too much strain on you.'

I wasn't sure if physical effort would speed up the process or not.

Tom had seemed so weakened after a bit of walking. He hadn't complained once, of course not. Tom wasn't one to complain. He was stronger than that. He'd much rather grit his teeth and just walk around with a rotting wound on his arm than take breaks in between and dab a piece of cloth against his infected skin. Harry could admire that in him, but right now he just found it to be terribly frustrating and hurtful. He didn't like not knowing what to do or what to expect and especially now wasn't the time for secrecy. Tom sat up and Harry tried to help him up, but Tom swatted at his hands.

'I'm not that old, Harry,' Tom said, mildly amused. A painful twinge went through Harry's chest.

But you'll never get old, either.

Harry wrapped his arms around Tom and Tom sighed, resting his head in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry could feel his breaths brush over his skin. He wondered how many breaths Tom would continue taking as a human being and felt his heart crack some more.

'Been a long day,' Tom murmured. Harry nodded. It was. He couldn't bring himself to speak, not yet, his throat burning, his heart aching.

'We should… Do you have any plans yet? For Grindelwald?' Maybe having a normal conversation would distract him enough. Maybe it'd help him keep his mind of what was going to happen. Maybe… It took Tom a moment to reply. His hands rested loosely on Harry's forearms, holding them. Harry wondered what for. 'We're going to kill a member of the Brotherhood and take his cloak,' Tom murmured. 'You are going to infiltrate the Brotherhood. Try to get Grindelwald alone. And then we're going to kill him.'

'Why me?' Harry asked. Tom shook his head and chuckled darkly.

'I'll be near, it's not just you doing all the work. I would've rather done it myself. But it appears…' Tom took a deep breath, pausing for a moment as though speaking too much cost him a lot of effort. Harry glanced at him in concern. '…that I do not have a lot of self-control as of now.' He had nearly killed Harry this morning over something he normally would've just kicked Harry's ass for. Harry didn't need this to be told to him to know it to be true.

'I'll do it,' Harry finally said. He tried to force down his memories. Tried to be strong about it. There'd be no use in crying now. They were going to have to focus on killing Grindelwald. Still, something in Harry told him that killing Grindelwald was going to be a lot easier than the other things he had to think of too. 'We'll take him down. And then -' Harry stopped talking and turned his head away, biting his bottom lip and taking a sharp breath to keep from crying. He didn't want to cry. He just…

'Look at me, love,' Tom murmured. Harry hesitantly did so and Tom smiled and brushed his fingers through Harry's hair.

'You don't have to be strong right now.' Harry nodded and he sobbed into Tom's mouth when the elder male kissed him, tears finally falling.

'Love me?' he choked. Tom nodded.

'Of course I'll love you,' Tom whispered. He pushed Harry down gently and pressed another kiss against him, just at the center of his chest. His hands were slow when they slid down Harry's body, gently peeling his clothes off his body until there were no more things between them anymore. 'Always.'

Harry sniffled while Tom worshipped his body, exploring him, taking care of him and making him feel wanted and okay. When Tom coaxed him open he remained still. When Tom slid inside of him he didn't squirm away.

Tom's rhythm was completely off so Harry eventually pushed him onto his back and started riding him, slowly at first, taking his time while Tom's hands slid over his wracked frame. He leaned down and pressed his elbows against the ground at either side of Tom's head, caging him in, warming his lover's dying body with his own. He was only vaguely aware of the slow, slick feeling of Tom entering and leaving his body constantly.

'I love you,' Harry whimpered. Tom slowly thrust up as well, meeting him halfway.

'I love you too.' Hearing it and now knowing for sure that Tom loved him, that he hadn't imagined it only broke Harry's heart further. In a few weeks from now Harry was going to be alone. He was going to have to learn how to live without Tom.

Tom sat up and Harry wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him close, crying into his hair. Tom took control again and started thrusting into him, making him gasp and whimper and moan, still clutching his lover to his chest as if he was trying to tear him from death's hands as well. He wished he could hide Tom somewhere safe. He wished his embrace could be enough to keep the future from coming.

It didn't take Harry much to come. Just two more thrusts and he was done, feeling Tom come inside of him as well some time later. This time it was Harry to hold Tom close, to keep him from slipping out of him – this time it was Harry desperate to keep himself filled. He kept his arms and legs wrapped tightly around Tom and clung onto him. Holding him in his loving embrace.

'It's okay,' Tom whispered and it took Harry a while to realize he was still crying. He didn't seem to be capable of stopping now that he had started because it was all just so unfair. First his parents, now Tom... He would have nothing left to live for without this man. His entire life was built around him.

'It's not,' Harry weakly protested. He was sitting naked on top of another man in the middle of nowhere, and still it was the least of his worries. 'I'm going to lose you.'

'Don't say that,' Tom murmured. His fingers splayed on Harry's skin, like he wanted to touch him for as much as possible.

'It's the truth, isn't it?' Harry said, his voice choked up and broken and just so small. He felt like a child. He felt like no matter what he did, everything and everyone was going to be taken away from him. 'You're going to-'

'Stop saying that!' Harry abruptly stopped and he closed his eyes, more tears rolling down his cheeks. He was shaking so bad and Tom's eyes softened again, probably having noticed the effect he had had on Harry when he had raised his voice to him. Harry couldn't handle it right now. He didn't want to fight Tom, not now.

'Don't… just don't say that,' Tom murmured, his voice softer, his hands big and caring and gentle while they thumbed Harry's tears away. 'You know I'm never going to leave you. Not completely.'

'Don't make promises you can't keep,' Harry choked out. Tom shook his head.

'I'm not. I promise. You're my other half…' Tom kissed Harry's temple and rocked them back and forth, back and forth, until Harry's sobs died down. Like he was a child. Harry practically was one right now. As the years had passed he had gotten older, sure enough, and he had done things most people wouldn't believe, and Harry liked to believe that he was very mature for his age. Fact remained that he was only 17 and he couldn't handle these things. At the end of the day he was just a kid who would've been in his senior year of high school if all of this hadn't happened.

Harry had never even witnessed someone actually turning because Tom had already killed them before they had had a chance. How was Harry even supposed to see that as an option? What did Tom expect him to do?

'You're my other half,' Harry parroted. He believed it, too, and was willing to believe everything Tom was telling him now. At this point he wouldn't even care if it had been all lies to make him feel better because they only eased his pain just a fraction. Tom nodded.

'Yes. We complete each other,' he said. 'I'm not going to leave you. I chose you that night. You're it for me. You're my Chosen One.' Harry's lips trembled while Tom looked at him with sudden tired eyes. He needed to rest again. 'You're mine.'

'Are you-'

'Say it.' Harry blinked, a bit taken aback at the demanding tone in Tom's voice. He rubbed at his eyes. 'Say you're mine. Promise me that no matter what, you'll be mine.'

Harry nodded, his lips trembling. 'I promise,' he whispered, quick and eager to reassure his lover, 'I'm yours. I promise.'

Tom stared at him for a long time before he nodded and pressed his face into Harry's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

'And I'm yours,' Tom murmured distractedly. Harry stroked his hair again and eventually Tom fell asleep, his breathing shallow, loud, or maybe it seemed that way because Harry was paying so much attention to it. Harry closed his eyes and released him, gingerly putting on his clothes. He double checked their traps and then pressed himself against Tom's chest and held him, lifting Tom's arms and draping it over himself. Tom made a soft, pained noise and gripped him tighter, his forehead sticky with sweat. Harry was unsure if that was from their earlier love making or because he was having one of his fevers again. He tried not to think too much of it.

They didn't have much nights left in which they could do this after all.

* * *

The following morning Harry woke up with Tom's chest pressed firmly against his back, Harry's head pillowed on one of Tom's arms while the other, the wounded one, was draped loosely over Harry's waist. Harry blinked the sleep wearily from his eyes and found himself grounded to reality all at once. They'd been holding hands in their sleep - Harry could see it from the way Tom's own hand was curled upward and Harry's arm was apparently stretched toward it, his fingertips pressed into the palm of Tom's hand.

It appeared that even in his sleep, Harry had been desperate to feel Tom against himself.

Harry's eyes slid over his own wrist, taking note of the angry red line there. The cut was still there and it meant the virus wasn't sexually transmittable. Harry felt strangely disappointed.

Harry moved a bit and Tom made a soft, groan like noise, pressing his face in between the narrow space between Harry's shoulder blades like he had done yesterday, when Harry had been crying. He didn't know why but it made him feel oddly emotional again and when he turned around Tom was gazing at him with half lidded eyes. His eyes looked almost violet in this light and it sent a shock through Harry's body.

Tom sighed and pressed his forehead against Harry's and they lied there for a moment, Tom's eyes already drifting shut again. Harry actually had to nudge him a couple of time before he got up, clutching a hand to his forehead and leaning against the tree. He looked like he was about to throw up. When Harry asked him if he needed anything Tom just shook his head and they started their day like nothing was wrong. Like yesterday hadn't even happened.

They took down their traps, shared a lingering kiss. Prepared for killing Grindelwald.

They had decided to go to the nearest Brotherhood camp, which was also the largest. Tom expected to find Grindelwald there because he had only recently attacked the Order, and may very well be planning on another attack seeing as Tom and Harry hadn't surrendered.

They killed the first person wearing a cloak they spotted after scanning the area for about an hour or so. It was a boy with white blonde hair and it had been a clean kill. Harry had shot an arrow through his right eye and he had dropped dead almost instantly and Tom complimented him on the shot too. Harry hadn't had it in him to smile.

They had decided to get Grindelwald by night because then most men would've been in their tents, with their women. Trying to impregnate them.

Tom had stolen the boy's car and had parked it somewhere outside the camp, where they could load Grindelwald's body into it. Harry had expected to feel some sort of adrenaline, excitement of some sort. But all he felt was regret at having to spend time away from Tom's side.

They made love in the car again. It didn't take either one of them long to come – Harry had been rising and falling on Tom's lap in a rather fast pace, knowing that it would take Tom too much effort to be the one in control this time. Tom had dug his nails so hard in Harry's hips that he had bled and bruised. Harry didn't care. If it were up to him he'd be marked by Tom for the rest of his life.

By the time they'd been done Harry had been slumped over Tom, his face pressed into his damp neck. Harry had pressed a lingering kiss against Tom's lips before he had climbed off him and had left, knowing that they should just finish now that they had started already. There was no telling if the Brotherhood already knew one of their members had been killed though Harry was certain that they wouldn't have blamed Harry or Tom. For all the Brotherhood knew the duo still used knives and guns as their weapons.

It wasn't hard for Harry to walk into their camp. He had no clue where Tom was, but he knew he was close. He could feel his eyes on him.

Surprisingly it was Grindelwald to find him first. Harry knocked into him and stuttered apologies, and before he knew it he was being dragged off to stand in front of another tent. Had he screwed up already? He didn't quite know and he didn't quite care either. It should've made him care, though. Harry did have a knife on him but he was in unknown territory right now, they'd so very easily overpower him and with Tom's bad health there was no telling if Tom would actually be able to help him out when in need.

'Draco, good to see you're back. Your father has eagerly been awaiting you,' Grindelwald said and Harry had no clue who he was talking about until he figured that the kid he had killed earlier had probably been named Draco. Funny, how he referred to someone of his own age as a mere kid. Harry felt so much more mature.

Harry nodded and remained still when Grindelwald went to fetch a man. He thought he heard something move in the bushes and when Harry turned his head he saw Tom's eyes glimmer in the darkness. He looked like a predator already.

'Here's your boy, Lucius. No need to worry, see? We've trained him well,' Grindelwald murmured to the tall blonde man walking next him. Harry vaguely wondered to himself what this Draco person had been told to do. He didn't really care about that either and thought with dark amusement that no, they hadn't trained Draco very well.

Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself and glaring up from underneath his mask when the tall blonde man named Lucius walked up to study his face. Harry heard a vague whistling noise and then suddenly Lucius choked out a mouthful of blood and dropped to his knees. An arrow was wedged through his throat.

Grindelwald instantly spun around, cursing and his eyes widening when he caught sight of Tom who was suddenly right behind him. Harry hadn't even seen him moving.

'No, he's my boy,' Tom finally drawled. He rammed the back of his gun into Grindelwald's temple and they instantly started dragging him off into the woods.

Harry hadn't thought this to be hard. Grindelwald hadn't seen them coming, after all, still convinced they had been hiding somewhere. But he hadn't thought it to be this easy either.

Harry found he hated Grindelwald. He hated him more than anything for the damage he had done to Tom and Harry, he hated him for being the indirect cause of the gaping wound on Tom's arm. Teeth bared in a snarl, Harry sneered and stomped his foot down on Grindelwald's face, hearing a sickening crack. Tom gripped his arms and pulled him back in his chest while Harry cursed at him, feeling unreasonably angry.

This man had just taken away his entire future. Thanks to him Harry's lover was going to die and he had raped those women in the camp too. This man had killed Cho.

Pretty and lonely.

The words suddenly rang in his head and Harry struggled in Tom's arms, breaking free and all but straddling Grindelwald's chest, fisting his shirt and punching him in the face again and again. His fists were aching with it, too, but he didn't seem to be capable of stopping.

He hated him. He hated him with every inch of his being.

'Harry!' It was Tom's voice that made him blink up and he allowed Tom to pull him up. Grindelwald was a bloody mess on the floor, he was sobbing in pain. He deserved it. He deserved that and so much more. Harry sneered and made to move forward again but them Tom pulled him back into his chest, holding him there. 'I know, love,' Tom said and Harry realized he had been saying it out loud. He hadn't meant to. Why did his cheeks suddenly feel so wet? 'Just remember the plan, beautiful,' Tom murmured in his ear.

'I knew it,' Grindelwald finally sneered, snapping Harry out of the somewhat calm state Tom had worked him into, 'knew you two were a couple of fucking fags-'

'Sucks to be you,' Harry said, voice quivering while his body was tense from restraining itself, 'sucks that you get to be killed by two fucking fags.'

Grindelwald looked at him with a disgusted look on his face, his facial expression twisted into one of pain when Harry kicked him in the ribs for good measure. Without this man, Tom would've never been bitten.

Grindelwald was moaning weakly in pain until Harry got enough of him and tore a piece of fabric off the cloak, shoving it into his mouth to shut him up. Tom's eyes averted to him but Harry didn't say a word and continued dragging him off. They loaded him into the back of the car like he was some sack of potatoes and Harry pressed a gun against his temple. It was unloaded, but Grindelwald needn't know that.

They drove off into the darkness.

* * *

When they stopped again they got out of the car on a dirt road, Harry nudging Grindelwald with his gun and forcing him forward just like he had done with Tom. The only difference between Tom and Grindelwald, was that Grindelwald wouldn't make it out alive.

They shoved him face forward into a tree and wrapped barbed wire around Grindelwald, cutting open his cloak and revealing his pale back. Tom smirked and held the knife out to Harry.

'The honor's yours, dearest,' he said.

'You will burn in hell!' Grindelwald intervened as though that should scare them off. Harry shook his head, feeling repulsed beyond measure by this man. He didn't even want to touch him and Tom shrugged and started cutting the symbol of the Brotherhood into the man's back, dragging the knife over the wound longer than necessary. Just to humiliate him.

Zombies could smell blood from miles away. Tom knew that. So did Grindelwald, Harry could tell by the look in his eyes. He could tell that Grindelwald knew he was going to die.

Tom had worn that same look in his eyes when Harry had found out about his wound.

Tom was being strong now but Harry could see the sweat on his brow. The slight tremble in his hands. The antidote in his veins? Yeah, it was still there. But it didn't stop the process at all. It made it painfully slow and it just dragged it out. Made Tom slowly lose his sanity. Made him feel his intelligence slipping away.

Tom was slowly forgetting about things. Forgetting about traps they had set up. Harry had even had to take over the steering wheel because Tom blacked out a couple of times. Sometimes Tom got so aggressive Harry had to hide, because he feared the infection was going to make Tom forget Harry was his lover.

'He's one of them too,' Grindelwald said, snapping both Harry and Tom out of their thoughts. Grindelwald's swollen blue eyes aimed at them and he laughed. His teeth were stained with his own blood and Harry felt repulsed. 'Your nancy man is going down with me, boy.'

'Shut up,' Harry snapped at him, feeling his body tense up again. Grindelwald laughed at him and then spat at his feet, a weak imitation of what Tom had done a while back.

'Told you you'd get what you deserve.'

'Shut up!'

'Harry-'

'What are you gonna do when he's turning, huh? Are you going to let him kill-' Grindelwald stopped talking when Harry grabbed the knife from Tom's hands and stabbed it right in his back, a cry of pain falling from his lips. Harry's eyes were wide and he backed up in Tom's chest, hands shaking. He grabbed the knife again and then took Tom's hand, all but running away.

They hid in the car. Tom wanted to stick around to watch and Harry didn't have it in him to protest. Harry listened to Tom breathe; heard how it was labored, almost panting from the small effort.

His heart ached and he pressed his forehead against Tom's shoulder when the screaming started. Tom just watched, cold glee in his eyes when Grindelwald was starting to get torn apart. He had an almost hungry expression in his eyes and when the screaming died down the zombie started limping again, right past them. When Harry glanced up his eyes grew wide.

Fiery red hair. A frame at his own height. Tattered clothes that barely kept her body from view, fingers missing, bloody remains of what used to be her smooth cheek attached to her jaw and cheekbone and teeth bared for the world to see. Harry was not aware of Tom's chest pressed up against his own or the way more zombies were coming anymore. Harry did not even know his own name, for a brief moment. He just could say one word.

'Mom?'

 


	9. Like I Do

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Chapter 9

**Like I Do**

Harry stepped out of the car almost robotically, his eyes glassy, like he was caught in a dream. She caught sight of him instantly and she limped forward when he stretched his hands out toward her. It felt like Harry's tears burnt his cheeks.

It was her. It was actually her.

‘Mom,’ Harry said again, as though it should bring back the intelligence in her eyes. Bring back the mischievous glint she used to have in her eyes when she tricked Harry’s dad. She had once thrown a pie in James' face – Harry remembered that day. Remembered the smile on his own face, the ache in his stomach from laughing so hard.

His parents had been so perfect together.

Kind of like how Tom and Harry were now.

His mother looked positively morbid, tattered, dead but so painfully alive at the same time and she still was so beautiful no matter what state her face was in. One of her kind eyes, eyes that had looked eerily like Harry’s when they had been in a healthy state, was rotting away in its socket.  Her eyelashes were clumped together with dark pus and sticky blood while her hair was a tangled, disgusting mess.

But it was still his mom. His mom, who was now coming so close to him. Her hands reached out and Harry realized she was still wearing her wedding ring. It glimmered when it got caught in the moonlight, just like her healthy eye did as though highlighting the few things that still made her  _Lily._

Harry choked. He stood there, completely frozen.

How long had she walked around on this planet, hungry, hurt, cold, lonely? Where was Harry’s dad? Was he somewhere around or had someone killed him already?  
  
His mom was now close enough to touch and Harry stretched his arm out as well.

It wouldn't matter if she would sink those teeth of hers into Harry's skin, if she'd tear a chunk of flesh right out of him. He had nothing left to lose.

Harry would just much rather fit in with them, lose everything that made him  _Harry_ than have to live through losing someone again. Their fingertips brushed and just when his mom reached forward to bite him, arms wound around Harry’s chest and he was pulled away from her.

‘No!’ Harry screamed, fighting and kicking and screaming. His mom screamed as well and started running toward Harry as if wanting to rip him out of the hands that were carrying him back to the car. ‘No – let go, I – MOM!’

‘Don’t make me do this Harry,’ Tom hissed into his ear. Harry didn’t listen at all and when he actually elbowed Tom in the stomach Tom just lost it. He shoved Harry behind him and Harry tripped over his feet, frantic when Tom cocked his own gun at her, his elbows banging painfully against the dirt road. Harry shot up but he was too late – by the time Harry pulled Tom’s hand down the shot had already been fired.  
  
His mom dropped to the ground.

Dead.

Tom had just used one of the few bullets they had left to kill Harry’s mother.

To save Harry like he always had in the past.

Harry dropped to his knees next to her, his entire body shaking, his mind in a complete state of shock. He wanted to speak but he had no words to say. Nothing could possibly explain what was going through his head right now.

For all these years, Harry had wanted nothing but someone to love. Harry had learned to value that what he hadn’t been able to in the past – things had been taken from him, other things Harry had willingly given to others. His help, his love. His passion. But nothing seemed to last.

Everything, everyone was going to die eventually. Disappear forever.

Harry reached out and touched her hand.  

The last time he had seen her she had been so beautiful, and she still was, but… his hand reached out and his fingertips brushed over the ring on her ring finger, knowing that his father’s name would be engraved in it. Hot tears prickled in his eyes.

Who knew how many people she had killed,  _eaten_?  
  
He slipped the ring off her finger and fisted it tightly, a sob tearing from his throat. The ring was cold, not warm by her body heat like it had been all those years ago when she had held Harry's hand and it had been pressed against his skin.

When Tom hauled him up to his feet Harry yelled at him and started punching him in the chest, pushing him away… Anything he could do to hurt Tom. Tom did nothing to fight him and eventually Harry just collapsed into him, fisting Tom’s shirt and helplessly biting his bottom lip to keep himself from uttering words that he had been meaning to spill for such a long time now.  

It wouldn’t be okay to act like a little boy right now. He  _knew_ that, he knew that he shouldn’t cry, that it wouldn’t do any good.

But then again, he couldn’t see any good in his loved ones dying either. That wasn’t keeping them from doing so.

‘It’s okay,’ Tom murmured, rocking him back and forth in his arms. And Harry knew that Tom had done it to protect them both but Harry couldn’t help the resentment that overcame him.  
  
His heart ached and he choked.

Tom would be leaving him too. Tom would be like that, one day. Harry would have to do that to him soon.

Tom’s hand found Harry’s fist and gently unfolded his fingers from where they had been fisting the ring in between, kissing his forehead. Harry watched as Tom took the ring and slipped it on Harry’s ring finger. It was a perfect fit.

‘Don’t remember her like that,’ Tom murmured, ‘remember her for the things she gave you, not for the things she just attempted to take from you.’ His fingers wound through Harry’s hair and Harry wondered if Tom was asking Harry to do the same for him.

Harry just cracked. He couldn’t stand it.

Every day they had been confronted with how fragile their lives had been, but they had always been able to get away before things got bad. They got hurt, sure – they’ve had their fair share of broken bones and cuts and bruises and whatnot. But this? It just shouldn’t end like this. They were supposed to grow old with each other. That’s the only thing Harry had wanted.

Still wanted.

‘I wanna go home,’ Harry sobbed, ‘I wanna go home and I want my mom and dad and I just want you to be  _okay_.’  
  
He didn’t care that he was supposed to be an adult now, and that crying for his mom and dad at this age simply wasn’t acceptable anymore. He wasn’t able to feel shame right now.

Tom said nothing for a long amount of time, until he finally pulled away with a tired sigh.

‘Let’s bury her and talk.’

* * *

They took her body with them, driving a couple of miles away just to make sure they wouldn’t get attacked by the other zombies who were surely drawn to the place where they left Grindelwald because of all the screaming and the scent of blood, and then buried her under an oak tree. Tom’s arm had been around Harry’s shoulders, his hands comforting on Harry’s skin, warm and big and secure. Safe.

After that, they started driving again and Tom parked the car somewhere in a clearing. Harry set up the traps because he knew Tom would forget where he had put them, and because Harry just needed to do something with his hands. Sitting around and doing nothing was killing him. He couldn’t stop the gnawing pain in his chest from growing even if he wanted to.  
  
Being near Tom only made it worse.

He returned, they exchanged a couple of words. Harry headed out again and killed a rabbit and got them berries for desert. It was a decent meal, he supposed. Taking care of his own body seemed so unimportant when his lover’s was in the very process of dying right next to him.

They didn’t do much talking at all. There was a strange type of tension in the air – it was different from when they were having one of their fights. Normally it was Tom who was brooding and fell silent, but not this time.

This time it was Harry, hiding everything inside right until he was going to burst and then maybe hiding it for a little longer.

Maybe, Harry thought to himself, this wouldn’t be so hard if it wouldn’t be so drawn out. Maybe it would’ve been easier to accept if it would just _happen_  already, if the moment would be there already. If Harry wouldn’t have this gnawing sense of hope somewhere inside of himself, would it hurt less?

He didn’t know. But knowing these things wouldn’t make a change anyway.

They got back into the car, car seats pushed down. Standard procedure that allowed them to lie next to one another. They stared out in front of each other, only their hands touching, silence thick in the air.  
  
Harry wondered what it felt like, feeling your body change and die. He wondered if Tom gradually grew more used to the pain, if he hid it or if he simply didn’t feel any pain anymore. It was hard to say.

‘I’m going to die,’ Tom finally said, his voice soft. As if he had just reached an understandment with himself.

Harry didn’t say anything to acknowledge it. He didn’t know how Tom felt about death. If Tom feared it, if he welcomed it after being in pain for so long. Maybe a bit of both. He wondered how Tom felt about an afterlife.

‘I’m going to die and then I’m going to come back as something entirely different from what I am now.’

Tom had always been so poetic. Trust him to say he was pretty much becoming a zombie in an almost pleasant way. Like he was just getting a new haircut, or something like that.

Harry remembered the first time Tom made love to him, and he remembered wondering to himself why people would ever fight if they could make each other feel so loved, so wanted, so cherished instead. What had Tom’s father wanted to achieve by creating such a horrible virus? Couldn’t he have foretold that it would ruin mankind?

Harry turned his head to look at Tom only to notice Tom had been looking at him all along.

Words failed him. Harry was struck by the look in his eyes - it was so understanding, so intelligent. It was like for a moment Tom was himself again. Like Tom was in perfect health right now.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Harry whispered, wondering if he had ever told Tom this before. He couldn’t recall saying it before, but that didn't make it any less true.  
  
Tom looked mildly amused by that and he smiled, just a brief upturn of the corner of his mouth. His eyes glimmered in the light and Harry thought that he could live for forever in this moment.

Tom’s thumb brushed over the back of Harry’s hand and Harry glanced down at their joined hands. His mother’s wedding ring glimmered in the light and without even thinking twice Harry took it off and put it on Tom’s pinky, the only finger where it fit.

‘My dad put it around my mom’s finger to show her he loved her,’ Harry whispered, feeling so eerily calmed by Tom’s acceptance, ‘I… please keep it? So that-’

‘Yes,’ Tom instantly said, ‘yes, of course. Come here.’

Harry rolled over to lie on his side and Tom reached an arm out, holding him close and kissing his scarred forehead. He closed his eyes when Tom’s fingers brushed over the side of his face, the touch fleeting and gentle, almost nonexistent but so very reassuring by the way it was  _Tom’s_ as well.

‘Talk to me?’ Harry asked. Tom paused from where he had been caressing Harry, before he continued moving his fingers.

‘About what?’ Tom asked in return. Harry shrugged. He loved the sound of Tom’s voice; maybe it would be able to lull him to sleep. Harry hadn’t been capable of sleeping very well lately and maybe he would just get a few hours of rest he'd feel better again. Stronger.  
  
Maybe if he woke up again, this would all turn out to have been a bad, horrible dream.

‘What would life have been like if everything was okay? If we would’ve… been together in a normal world?’

Tom chuckled, little huffs of breath fanning over Harry’s forehead. Harry pressed himself more into Tom, liking how Tom was acting more like his old self. His body was tall and secure, curling so nicely around Harry's. Almost like a blanket.

‘We would’ve been a mess,’ Tom stated. ‘Undoubtedly fighting all the time over stupid things.’  
  
Harry froze.  
  
Before all of this happened, before they had decided to settle down, they had been working pretty well together but whenever Tom got irritated Harry did tend to avoid him for as much as that was possible, not having wanted to deal with Tom's bad moods and his temper. Harry supposed that if he really hadn't been secretly afraid Tom would leave him, he would've snapped at Tom more often as well.   
  
In a way it made sense to think that if they would've been together in normal life, they would've made a horrible couple. A horrible, wonderful couple.

‘Like what?’ Harry asked softly. Tom snorted. His fingers started tracing random patterns on Harry's skin, making it tingle in the wake of it. Harry should feel tired after everything they did - accomplished, even. They had just brought down the leader of the Brotherhood and undoubtedly changed the lives of hundreds of people, probably for the better as well.  
  
Harry didn't feel a sense of victory at all. He just felt awake and completely aware of Tom, of his slow breathing and of the scarce amount of his skin that was exposed to the open air.

‘I’d get pissed at you for making a mess out of the apartment we’d be living in, and you’d probably get annoyed at me for always bringing my work home. We’d be one of those couples no one else would just  _get_ , but it’d be okay. We’d be so caught up in one another that we wouldn’t even care.’

Harry smiled softly at the thought, brushing his fingers over Tom’s, silently encouraging him to continue. He closed his eyes and tried to envision it. He tried to envision a world where things such as Harry making a mess out of their apartment would actually matter; a world where they weren't constantly in danger for their lives and a world where they could just go to sleep and not have to worry about getting attacked. Harry tried to envision what their apartment would look like but honestly, just the knowledge that it'd be  _theirs_ already made it sound amazing.  
  
It had been so long since he had stayed at one place for a while. The map indicated that they were getting closer and closer to the abandoned farm they had been intending on going and hiding for the rest of winter - it'd only be a couple of days worth traveling.   
  
A place of their own sounded absolutely amazing and more than what Harry could ask for.

‘We’d have a nice apartment somewhere in town on the top floor of a tall building so that you could look down on people. I know how much you like looking at people.’

Harry did like looking at people from afar, just studying them, trying to understand what made them tick. Harry often tried to figure out their past just by looking at them. He never did quite succeed, but it was a fun game nonetheless. It kept him busy when he was bored and Tom used to join him, in the past.  
  
Harry remembered the stories they had sometimes come up with (Harry had only been 13 years old when they started doing it) with a smile on his face. The nicknames they started giving zombies had pretty much come from that.

‘Would we have any pets?’ Harry asked softly, allowing himself to fantasize. It’s been so long since he had actually allowed himself to do so, allowed himself to be just a kid. It was strange, kind of like trying on a suit that wasn't his size but close to it.

‘I don’t know, would you like one? It’s your life too, you know,’ Tom said, nudging Harry in the side. Harry laughed softly.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had done so.

‘Maybe an owl?’ Harry asked. He had always liked owls - their soft hooting always comforted Harry at night and he often envied them for being capable of just spreading their wings and flying away from everything. When he had been a kid he used to draw them all the time. They had always been his favorite animals. They were just so mysterious and beautiful, their eyes always glimmering in the darkness.  
  
Tom chuckled. 

‘An owl? I don’t believe they make good pets, though,’ he said, his fingers resuming to running over Harry's skin again. Harry could feel how Tom's lips were still curled up in a grin against his own scarred forehead. 

Harry shrugged, not really caring. He wouldn't keep her in a cage - an animal like that should be able to be free as well. He'd allow her to fly whenever she'd want to.  
  
‘A big white one. She could deliver letters…’ Tom laughed and Harry briefly opened his eyes to look at him, feeling himself smile. ‘Are you laughing at me?’

‘I’m sorry. You may have all the owls you want, as long as you clean up their mess.’ Harry wrinkled up his nose and pressed his face in Tom’s chest again, finding comfort in the beating of his heart.  
  
This was nice. It's been so long since they had actually just  _talked_ , and Harry couldn't remember the last time they have had a conversation like this, if they'd even had a conversation like this at all.

‘Can’t we hire someone for that?’   
  
Tom laughed again. Harry could hear the sound bubbling up in his torso, too, vibrating in his throat.  He liked the sound of it.

‘Maybe that someone could clean up after you as well. I feel sorry for that person already.’ Tom merely moved to the side when Harry poked him in the ribs, smile still on his face. Harry kept smiling as well. He felt warm for the first time in days. Funny, how Tom always did that to him.   
  
A wave of affection overcame him and he shifted, gazing at Tom. His fingertips reached out and traced the straight bridge of Tom's nose. He liked how soft Tom's skin felt against his own, how smooth it was.

‘Could we have a big bed?’ Harry asked in a whisper, as though speaking too loud would ruin this rare moment of happiness. He rolled on top of Tom, his chin resting on Tom’s chest, gazing up at the male. He tried to ignore how cold Tom felt and toyed with the thought of warming Tom up with his own heat.

Tom hummed.

‘The biggest bed money could buy,’ Tom confirmed, running a hand through Harry’s hair. ‘With lots of pillows and soft sheets.’  
  
Harry could picture it, too. Large windows, white curtains. A king sized bed with maybe black or white sheets, and a mountain of pillows on top. The last time he had slept in a bed it had been hard and dusty and not very comfortable, but theirs would've been different. They would have the kind of bed where their bodies would just  _sink_ into, the kind of bed they just couldn't leave because it'd be so goddamn comfortable. A bed where they could just close their eyes and fall asleep in without having to wake up with any sore limbs.

It'd be a bed where Harry would maybe bring Tom breakfast sometimes, if he would learn how to cook a nice meal. A bed where they would make love, a bed where they could stay in when it'd be a rainy day and they had nowhere they needed to be. A bed where they could lie, limbs tangled, just sleeping. 

Harry loved sleeping with Tom. Just sleeping - nothing special. Feeling him breathe and move in his sleep at rare occasions, their bodies pressed against one another. Tom's arms around him.  
  
It felt like home and safety. 

‘I think that that would be my favorite room in our apartment,’ Harry admitted honestly, tracing Tom’s face with his fingertips and resting at his cupid’s bow.

‘You’re such a hormonal teen,’ Tom observed, the corner of his mouth kicking up again, this time in a cocky smirk. ‘Or am I simply that irresistible?’  
  
Harry opened and closed his mouth, feeling strangely flustered. It wasn't like Harry still got easily frustrated or embarrassed around Tom - he liked having sex with Tom and he wasn't ashamed of his own body, and he liked talking to the tall male. He just supposed that feelings... Feelings were still difficult for Harry to grasp.

‘It’s not just the sex – it’s… It’s being close to you,' Harry slowly started, frowning a bit to himself. 'You always make me feel so loved and warm and I haven’t had that in years.'  
  
Harry felt his cheeks burn and started feeling ridiculous for saying these things out loud.  
  
‘When I’m with you like that it just feels like everything falls into place. Like my body was made to be with yours, to have you inside it. It’s stupid.’

Tom stared at him for a long time, his eyes almost searching, demanding in their own intensity. Harry struggled to keep from looking away.

‘I don’t think it’s stupid,’ Tom finally said and Harry licked his lips. ‘I feel the exact same way.’

* * *

Tom’s health plummeted two days later.

It happened so fast and so sudden Harry had trouble fully understanding what was happening, let alone accepting it.  
  
They had just been washing up by a small creek when Tom had suddenly sunk through his knees, clutching his chest. He had insisted he had been alright, but he could no longer walk straight. From the sound of it, Tom even had trouble breathing.

Harry supported Tom’s weight, feeling numbed, his heart a clump of lead trapped in his ribcage.

They had to keep moving on – it was becoming cooler and cooler with each passing day, zombies were more often out in the open now that the heat of the sun was growing weaker. There were only so many zombies Harry could kill before they’d overpower him. He only had three arrows left and he was usually very good at physical combat, but Harry wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Tom once he'd start fighting.

Tom rasped something in Harry’s ear and Harry stopped, adjusting Tom’s arm around his neck and tightening his grip on Tom’s waist. Tom was bigger than him, and even though Tom tried to walk he dragged his feet and leaned heavily on Harry,  and Tom weighed more than Harry did. It was difficult to keep moving on and Harry's muscles trembled with the effort but he told himself he could do this. He could bring Tom into safety, even if their car had ran out of gas. He'd find them a safe place to sleep. Tom just needed some rest.  
  
He'd be fine.

‘What?’ Harry asked. His voice was trembling, as were his hands. He felt like he was going to be sick.

‘I said you should leave me,’ Tom replied. His voice was no longer certain – it was hoarse, fleeting, weak.

Everything Tom had never been.

‘No,’ Harry instantly replied. It wasn’t an option to him because no matter what, he'd be there for Tom. He had promised himself that - that they'd stay together until the bitter end.  
  
But the end was nowhere in sight. Harry was certain of that. Tom wouldn't die because the antivirus was supposed to slow the process down and dammit, this wasn't happening now!

Out of all the things Tom could do, he started laughing. The sound was lost and not joyful at all – it was cold, like all emotion had been drained from him already. There was sweat on Tom’s forehead and his skin was paler than it usually was and his eyes were bloodshot, those brilliant blueirises of his turning violet. Red was slowly seeping into his blue eyes, making them grow darker by the minute.

‘Now’s not the time to try to prove me a point,’ Tom murmured. His bottom lip was bleeding from how hard he’d been biting it – still, he had yet to complain about being in pain.

‘Shut the hell up,’ Harry demanded, but it was weak, just like his legs were. He felt like crying but he didn’t, because Tom was strong too, and because they were going to make it goddammit. They were supposed to grow old together. Harry refused to live a tragedy and refused to become one – they were going to make it, Tom was going to stop being so goddamn stubborn and –

‘Harry.’

Harry stopped walking and looked at Tom, and Tom looked at him through half-lidded eyes. He had the audacity to smile.  
  
Harry had never seen him this defeated before.

‘It’s okay.’

‘It’s  _not_!’ Harry snapped, and those stupid tears were stinging in his eyes again because he didn’t want Tom to become one of  _them_ and he felt so helpless and he was going to be  _alone_ , and living life without Tom simply wasn’t an option! ‘Why are you being like this?!’

‘Don’t fight with me, not now,’ Tom said. His voice wasn’t demanding nor threatening, almost pleading in its own weakness. Tom had never backed down from a fight before.

Harry lowered Tom in front of a tree, allowing him to lean his back against it. He closed his eyes tightly and turned his back to Tom, wrapping his arms around his frame. A hollow feeling overcame him, like all happiness was sudddenly being drained from his entire being and like Harry was never going to be happy again.  
  
He bit his lip hard.  
  
Who was he even trying to fool? This was it. It was happening right now, the both of them knew it.

Tom was dying. And after he died he was going to turn into something Tom and Harry had both spent years trying to eliminate for good.

‘Come here, Harry?’

Harry turned around and stubbornly rubbed at his eyes, trying to ignore the tears running down his cheeks. He sat down on Tom’s legs, looking him in the eye as if daring Tom to tell him he shouldn’t. Tom just smiled at him and brushed the hair from Harry’s eyes.   
  
His skin was cold, unpleasantly so. Just like the skin of Harry's mom had been.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Tom told Harry even if he seemed to be experiencing immense difficulty keeping his eyes open, and Harry’s hands balled up into fists. More tears ran over his cheeks at the memory of when Harry told him the same thing.

‘I love…’ Tom’s breath got stuck in his throat and Harry stared at him, watching as he struggled to form words, not because of his emotions but because the monster was already trying to rob him off his intelligence, ‘…love…’ he trailed off, but Harry understood. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Tom’s temple. His tears dropped on Tom’s face and it was almost like Tom was crying himself when they rolled over his gaunt cheeks.

‘Maybe the antidote still works,’ Tom offered. Harry froze on top of him. ‘Maybe I just… water – maybe I need water.’

He cradled Tom’s face in his hands. Tom stared up at him, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. ‘Could you please get me some water?’

Harry’s mouth moved. How was he supposed to deny his dying lover what he needed most? Harry closed his eyes tightly, trying to figure out how long it would take him to go back to the creek, get water and return.

30 minutes, at most. Because he had been supporting Tom’s weight earlier he’d been slowed down a lot, but Harry was a lot faster by himself. The question was – would Tom be safe?

Initially, Harry didn’t want to leave Tom by himself. He opened his mouth to say that, too, but Tom weakly lifted a finger to Harry’s lips. He smiled softly, the corners of his mouth trembling at the strain.

‘Don’t protest. I need…’  
  
Tom trailed off again, a strange look of frustration overcoming him. The sight played at Harry's heartstrings because Tom wasn't supposed to be weak - he was supposed to be the strong one of them, the one that Harry had always looked up to.   
  
It physically  _hurt_ Harry to see him like this.

‘I – yes. Okay. Yes, I’ll… I’ll get you water, okay? I’ll go right now, I just…’ Harry stammered, stumbling over his words in his haste. He rubbed at his cheeks and sniffled, and Tom nodded weakly. Harry nodded as well and pressed a kiss against Tom’s forehead, pulling out the knife that had been strapped to his leg and placing it on Tom’s lap. He doubted Tom would be able to do much to defend himself should he be attacked, but at least he had a weapon now.

‘Will you be okay?’ Harry asked. They hadn’t run into a zombie just yet and even though the sun was shining bright, Tom would still be in the shadows because of the trees. There was no telling if he’d get killed.

But what other option did Harry have? They’d left their possessions behind at the creek – Harry hadn’t been capable of carrying their backpacks and supporting Tom’s weight at the same time. He hadn’t been strong enough. Maybe if he just got Tom some water...

‘I love you,’ Tom murmured. Harry nodded and pressed his forehead against Tom’s, trying to keep himself from embracing Tom because he knew he wouldn't want to let go again once he'd start. He pressed his trembling lips against Tom’s in a soft kiss, a kiss that promised he'd be back as soon as possible, a kiss that told Tom that Harry loved him too, a kiss that Harry wished to have lasted. But it didn't.  
  
Nothing would last. Harry had found this out the hard way.  
  
Harry turned around and started running before he could change his mind. His sides soon felt like they were on fire and he could barely breathe but he forced his legs to keep going, to go faster and faster, his hands shaking with the effort when he finally reached the creek and filled their bottles of water as quick as possible. Harry grabbed their backpacks, glad no one had touched them, including animals (raccoons were horrible; they destroyed everything in their wake) and then he hurried back. If he would've had a watch he would've known he had returned in only 20 minutes.

But when he got there, Tom was gone.

He dropped their backpacks and started calling Tom’s name, fear gripping his chest. The knife lied abandoned on the ground next to the tree Tom had been resting against. 

* * *

Tom watched Harry from the bushes he had dragged himself into, and he pressed a hand against his mouth when he coughed. His fingers were coated in slick, dark blood when he lowered it again and his stomach lurched at the mere sight. It wouldn't be long now...

He closed his eyes and lied back down. His breathing evened out, becoming slower and slower while his lover desperately called his name.   
  
Funny.  
  
He had never expected to care so much for that shitty brat, but he supposed Harry was  _Tom's_ shitty brat, wasn’t he? He had always been so amazingly trusting, such a quick learner, so eager to please…  A burst of pain went through Tom's chest, and Tom dug his nails into his own skin, eyes squeezing shut in concentration. If he would make a noise now Harry would find him, and the last Tom would want was to be seen dying.  
  
Tom had lied to make Harry go and distance himself from Tom because Tom had known that Harry would never be capable of killing him if he turned in Harry’s presence.  
  
'Tom please, where are you?!'  
  
The tone in Harry's voice played at Tom's heartstrings and he struggled to keep from answering it, knowing this was for the best. 

Shit, Harry had gone through enough already. And really, this was all Tom’s own stupid fault. He had been the one to have gotten bitten, he had lost control. He fucked up and now he was paying the price.  
  
Harry cried out Tom's name again, dry leaves scrunching underneath his feet as he took a few steps forward, trying desperately to find him.

Tom didn’t think he would’ve been able to let Harry go if Harry had been in his place. If Harry had been the one to die.  
  
He knew Harry had only left him for a short while because Harry was naive and undoubtedly had thought that if he'd just listen to Tom, things would be okay. Harry always had heavily relied on Tom to guide him through things, because Tom had always been the older one. The physically stronger one.

Death had never really been something real to Tom. He knew he was mortal, yes, at the end of the day he was only human. But he had spent so much time avoiding getting killed that he had forgotten he wasn’t invincible. He still grew tired and hungry. He was no god – he was intelligent enough to see his own death coming, but too arrogant to accept that it was truly going to be the end of him.

Because this was it. It was dawning in on Tom that he really was going to die, and it had started to dawn in on him when he had shot Harry's mother.  
  
One day, he was going to be like her.

Tom kind of wished he had shot himself in the head as well, he would hate for Harry to allow himself to get bitten by him. Selfishly, Tom thought to himself that that would be the only way for them to be together forever in this rotten world. But was it a world living in, Tom wondered, if he'd be unaware of everything and anything anyway?  
  
He had always known that those creatures had lived solely on instincts. Not emotions. Tom had seen what happened to Voldemort, how crazy he had become and how he had started  _eating_ , always just so hungry and out of control, killed like a worthless animal.

Tom didn’t want to be like that.

Harry screamed his name again, his voice broken, sounding like it had been when he had started going through puberty.

Tom wondered what life would be like when all he had to think of was eating and fucking. For a while he had lived his life like that, with Harry, and it had been the best period of his life. No worries about tomorrow, no bills to be paid, no parents to be pleased. Just him and Harry.

Another shot of pain went through his limbs and Tom closed his eyes, his bottom lip tasting metallic, like someone had shoved a handful of coins into his mouth.

Tom didn’t see his life flashing before his eyes. In fact, he was now just aware of Harry’s presence and the twigs digging into the sparse amount of his skin that was exposed. He was not to be saved anymore and he came to peace with that.  
  
Harry would survive, the kid was too goddamn stubborn for his own good, and Tom wouldn’t really die right now either. He would just…

…slip into eternal oblivion to everything. Remaining young, becoming tattered, his skin becoming worn but not wrinkled. Until someone would decide to put a bullet into his head. And then it’d be over.

 _Harry_ …

‘Tom!’ Harry called again. His voice was raw with emotion and Tom bit his tongue to keep from scolding him. Didn’t he know better? Hadn’t Tom specifically told Harry to never call his name unless Harry was in real need, that Harry would attract unnecessary attention otherwise?  
  
Tom's sight was blurry and he had to blink a couple of times, sternly, before the black dots dancing in his vision disappeared somewhat. His body was fighting it, Tom could tell – he just knew it was fighting a losing battle.

Tom had always thought he would die at an old age. That anyone who’d get bitten was a complete fool because it was so easily avoided.

Ironic.

Tom had never felt so strongly for anyone but Harry before. He hadn't even loved his little brother this much – Tom had practically raised both boys, had saved Harry simply because…  
  
Why, exactly? Tom could not recall much of the event, actually. Now that he thought hard about it Tom found names slipping from his grasp. His father, what had been his name again? When was the last time Tom had genuinely smiled? He could not remember.

He felt tired all of a sudden, but he forcibly kept his eyes open.

Ah, yes. He remembered now. He was no pedophile at all – Tom  had been many things in his lifetime, from a murderer to a savior to a lover, but never a pedophile. He hadn’t felt illicit attraction to Harry and he had hated him the first couple of days they had been together.

Tom had just needed something to anchor himself to reality. Something to keep himself busy. He had not been intending on saving a child – Harry had crossed his path. They had found each other. Harry had been in need of someone saving his life, and Tom had been in need of someone saving his mind from leaving him completely. Tom had been in need of something to keep himself busy.

Tom had told himself he would get rid of Harry as soon as he had proved himself a bother.

But Harry never had been. Not truly.  
  
In a way Harry had been Tom's Chosen One...

How many times had there been perfect moments where Tom could’ve left Harry to die? He did not remember. Had Tom been in danger himself? Undoubtedly. But he couldn’t remember those times either. His eyes slipped shut and it took him great effort to open them again.

What had been the moment about Harry, for Tom? Maybe that time when… no, wait, he didn’t know exactly. Probably that first time he had done something by himself. The first time he had manned up. The time Tom hadn’t been able to come up with something to save them out of a sticky situation and Harry had taken him by surprise. Harry had been 15 years old, maybe 16…?

Tom's breathing was incredibly loud to his own ears, but Harry did not seem to hear. Or maybe Harry had left? Could be, Tom couldn’t see and didn’t try to either lest he’d want to give away where he was. That’d really, in Harry’s words, suck.

There were a lot of things Tom didn’t know anymore and everything seemed to slip away so fast it was almost frightening. It probably would’ve bothered Tom if he hadn’t been in so much pain right now…  
  
Did he even have a middle name? Did Tom have family? There had to be more to Tom than Harry. Harry didn’t define him, didn’t define –

Who? Who then, who did Harry define if all Tom had left, even when he tried really hard, was his first name? Tom squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, another burst of pain shooting through him.  
  
Something in his body seemed to draw tight and he thought of p _assionatenightsHarry’slipshisownhandsorgasmsthefeelingofjumpingoffbuildingskillingeatinghungercoldsosoverycoldwhywasitsocold?_ until something just  _snapped_. His body shook and his eyes rolled underneath his lids. He panted and Harry's voice was somewhere in the distance, he couldn't hear it anymore. Darkness seemed to take him over completely and the pain was so strong Tom didn't even know if he was screaming or not. It was like his entire body was on fire, like his bones were being snapped in half and then rearranged again, like his skin was expanding and stretching too far.  
  
And then it was over.  
  
He took his final breath as Thomas Marvolo Riddle and his heart stopped beating all together.  
  
And an hour later, his red eyes opened again and all he was aware of was hunger and a gnawing feeling of being incomplete.

* * *

Days passed after that.  
  
Harry remained huddled up in the safety of his hiding place, having returned to the farm because he had stupidly hoped that maybe Tom would show up, one day. In the first few weeks, Harry had spent every waking moment looking for Tom but he grew distant and cold when he no matter what, he didn't find his lover, and the weeks quickly turned into months. Maybe seasons even came and went away.  
  
Time was hard to grasp when all you could feel was pain.

It began to rain and later on snow as time passed. Harry lost track of what month he was living in by the time the sky began to clear up and flowers began to grow again. Apples were growing at the apple tree just outside the house he was inhabiting now and even though Harry had been looking forward to eating fruit for so long, it now just tasted bland on his tongue when he had no one to share this with.   
  
Harry had never been alone for this amount of time, and it was more than he could take. Harry still went out hunting, killing small animals so he could eat them, he still took care of himself. It just felt like it was without purpose. It felt like he wasn’t really alive anymore.

Like only half of himself was left.

The hours that passed were filled with dread, worries and mental images of Tom ripping people apart with his bare hands, images of Tom having lost his intelligence so much that he had easily gotten killed by another person. By people like who Tom used to be himself.

Harry tightly closed his eyes and curled into a tighter ball, the sheets scratchy and the mattress hard.

There were days where Harry resented Tom. Resented him for making Harry leave in the first place, resented him for leaving Harry all by himself in this world. Resented Tom for making Harry love him and for putting those stupid images of them living together in an apartment in Harry's head.

There were nights where Harry hated Tom for changing his life. For saving him that one day. Often Harry wished he had died before he had started developing these feelings.  
  
All of his nights were cold and lonely, and this one wouldn’t be very different.

* * *

When Harry woke again, he woke to the smell of fresh meat. He knew it was a dream – it had to be, his mind had to be playing cruel tricks on him again. There was no one in the house and no one would've been able to go past all of Harry's traps unharmed. The only person who knew exactly how to avoid the traps and how to recognize them was Tom, and he was dead.  
  
Tom couldn't know Harry was here. And even if he did, it wouldn't matter. He was a mindless zombie now and he wasn't Harry's lover anymore.  
  
Harry had often dreamt of all the possibilities – dreamt of Tom’s arms around him, his lips against his own, slipping inside of Harry. It never happened and it always left Harry empty, aching, lonely.

Harry got out of bed nonetheless because the smell made his stomach growl hungrily, his feet connecting with the floorboards. They creaked under his added weight and he listlessly grabbed his knife and walked downstairs. His movements were slow and sluggish. He wasn't fully awake, or maybe he wasn't awake at all. It could be that Harry was sleepwalking right now.  
  
It didn’t surprise Harry that Tom was standing there, in the kitchen, meat in the small frying pan Harry had used only last night. Tom had often graced Harry with his presence in Harry’s dreams, almost cruelly so. Like he was demanding Harry to keep from forgetting him.

Harry walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Tom, automatically, because it was okay to do so in his dreams. He didn’t cry, didn’t smile, didn’t do anything but breathe him in. He was too tired to do anything but feel Tom's body against his own right now and he didn't want to put any effort into feeling anything as well. He'd wake up in tears later, Harry was sure of that, but right now Harry just wanted to feel Tom.  
  
In a way, he was grateful his mind was capable of creating this realistic image of Tom. He didn't think he could bear forgetting any small details about Tom, like the little scar on the back of Tom's hand that he got when they'd been climbing over a fence a couple of years back.

Tom froze and only moments later did he wrap his arms around Harry in return. He started rocking them back and forth when Harry started shaking because of how unfair this all was. It was unfair how real this dream felt, and it was unfair how Tom had left him.  
  
Harry wished he could hate Tom for it. But this was only proof that he couldn't.

‘Don’t fret, precious I’m here,’ Tom murmured softly into his hair. Harry just clung onto him tighter and willed himself to believe that the lie he created could be reality, because it would be so much easier to him. When he pulled away, Tom's knuckles brushed over his cheek. He murmured sweet nothings into Harry’s ear.  
  
Tom's body felt cold and against his own, like it was made out of marble.

When Harry looked up, Tom’s eyes weren’t blue and his skin wasn’t just pale.

His eyes were a dark shade of red, and his lips were painted red with blood as well, some of it dribbling down his chin, dripping on Harry's forehead. His skin had a greyish undertone to it, like he hadn’t seen the sun in a very long time.

Harry looked at the kitchen counter and saw the mangled body of a dead bird lying there, ripped open and its insides missing.

Harry’s lips moved, but he couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t come up with anything to say. His dreams never took this turn. Dream-Tom never did anything to anyone, he should be just there for Harry, making Harry remember him.  
  
But he felt so real right now. The smell of blood did, too.  
  
Tom just kissed him and Harry gagged. He tasted of blood.  
  
 _This had to be a nightmare, right?_

‘Go back to sleep.’

 


	10. Mad World

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep**

Epilogue

**Mad World**

Fifteen years it has been since the virus broke out and mankind was slowly restoring itself once more.

Towns were slowly being built up, weapons of mass destruction wiping out nations where zombies reigned. Now more than ever women were carrying children, bellies round and protruding, men protecting them like they were sacred beings because women were the only ones able to give birth to new life in this world.

Food and products were more valuable than money nowadays. People no longer put their faith in people who spoke in the names of Gods – the Gods had abandoned mankind once. If they existed, they would probably do so again one day in the future.

Best to abandon a sinking ship before it takes you down with it.

It was mainly youth that ruled the world, new political systems were being developed and history books were now full of stories of the so-called apocalypse. There were pages filled with writing about heroic tales about the people who helped rebuild this world; books on the Order, on the Brotherhood, on heroes of the war against the undead. What had happened had been unlike anything else.  
  
The world had forever been changed by the selfish acts of only one man.  
  
People had slain the most unholy things, prevailed against the odds, seen all horrors to be seen out there. They had grown cold and distant and those who had grown old were no longer envied. They were only pitied for what they may have experienced or had to do in order to obtain that old age.  
  
Entertainment was no longer cheap and all things luxurious (like real butter and chocolate and, above all,  _soap)_ were to be cherished, because they were still so rare to come by and bore such a high price.

Beauty images no longer existed. They served no purpose in a world where you were lucky to have all of your limbs still intact, in fact it only brought trouble. Women often scarred themselves and their children in the face to ward off anyone who would want to take advantage of their looks, of their youth. This was now a world where crimes such as rape went by unpunished, sometimes even encouraged, and there was only so little people could do to protect themselves against others. 

It was not wrong to try to help rebuild this world, after all. And men hungered for flesh in a way that was almost more terrifying than the way zombies had hungered for it.

Countries were being restored one at a time, people now more willing to cooperate than ever. Wars would follow soon enough, though. There was only so little amount of peace mankind could handle before deciding to stir up the fire. Mankind was not familiar with the saying  _let sleeping dogs lie,_ because there was always something more to be obtained, something more valuable in the hands of others and that just couldn't be.

Some say it had not been basic human instincts that had overtaken the infected. Some say that it was mankind’s integrated greed, implanted in their heads by society.

Rodolphus Lestrange didn’t know and to be frank, he did not care either. He was just doing his job, had gone through some shit and now he was guarding the outskirts of town even though it was useless. There were no zombies around but hey, if he could do this for free food then why the fuck not? There was nothing else he could spend his time on. His friends were dead, he had no books, his wife had gone insane after all the blood and pain of losing their family.

Rodolphus Lestrange was, along with more than half of nowadays’ society, bitter, traumatized and cruel. An expert at surviving but mentally dead, awaiting death and no longer fearing it just like his crazy wife who hungered for blood of those who did so much as look at her in the wrong way.

After having lived so long in the mentality that every day could be their last, most people nowadays didn’t even see death as such a big deal anymore.

They were fine with dying as long as they wouldn’t come back.

Rodolphus had been dozing in and out of sleep for a while now, the wooden chair he had been slouched on not entirely uncomfortable. The sun was dying at the horizon, bleeding colors in the shades of red and pink and yellow into the blue sky. It had been pure coincidence of him to have glanced up, truly, but the sight instantly made him tighten his grip on his gun, his heart pumping lazily in his chest.

There was a boy walking alone only a couple of feet away from Rodolphus, his shoulders hunched and his posture defeated and broken.

He wasn’t wearing shoes, his short, black hair was a mess and he was covered in blood. He had a bow and arrows strapped to his back, but he didn't look like a fighter at all. In fact, he looked lost, drugged maybe. His glasses were in crooked and his fingertips were twitching by his sides. Drops of blood followed his wake and the scent of it combined with clean grass hung around around him like an impenetrable bubble.

Rodolphus stood up, frowning a bit. He cocked his gun in case it was a zombie, but the short boy walked right past him, his head hanging low, his expression obscured by his hair. He looked like he had gone through hell and back, like he was not even aware of Rodolphus' presence.

Zombies were nowadays hard to come across, so many of them slaughtered throughout the years. Every now and then one of those fuckers would show up and really, one bite was all that it took to screw up years of work and rebuilding, but now people were prepared.

Now they knew what to do against them.

‘Boy,’ Rodolphus called carefully and he kept aiming his gun at the boy’s head. The boy did not reply, he just kept walking, kept shaking, moving as if stuck in a dream. He was dazed, or so he appeared. Utterly traumatized.

The boy’s jeans were tattered, his waistband ripped. He was limping and Rodolphus felt disgust rise inside of him as he thought of the possibilities of the cause of his limp – the boy had impressive hickeys on the back of his neck and he had bruises the shape of fingers on his wrists.

Crimes went unpunished, people still too busy recreating the life they used to have to be bothered with caring for others. Molestation, rape, murder, abuse and theft were nothing but common. It were not just women who fell victim of the lust of men - often young boys did too, when men were looking for a quick fuck. Boys couldn't grow pregnant after all.

Common or not, it didn’t mean that Rodolphus found the acts acceptable.

‘Hey, boy,’ Rodolphus called, his eyes still following the boy. The boy dragged his feet a bit. It was only when the man pressed the barrel of a gun against the side of his head, that he froze completely.

His shoulders twitched and his chest rose and fell slowly with each breath he took. His feet were bleeding, too, leaving behind bloody trails. Had the boy been raped and robbed? Rodolphus' head started to reel and he felt disgust at the civilization of nowadays.

‘Where are you from?’ he asked. The boy did not answer him and Rodolphus studied him. He couldn’t be a day over 17 – he had bruises on his attractive face, too, his bottom lip split. He was covered in so much dirt and blood that Rodolphus wasn’t able to tell what the natural shade of his skin was.

‘I can’t help you like this, boy!’ Rodolphus impatiently snapped. He gripped the boy’s collar and pulled him close, the worn fabric ripping at the rough treatment.

The boy’s collarbone was exposed to him all at once and Rodolphus’ eyes widened. Right there, at the junction of his neck and shoulder, he had a large scar, looking like it had been reopened again and again.  
  
It was in the shape of human teeth.

‘Jesus Christ,’ the man breathed, backing a step away and the boy kept his face aimed at him. His eyes were closed and he stepped toward him, but Rodolphus wavered now, no longer willing to help.

The boy was turning into a zombie. It couldn't be any other way - the boy had been attacked and now he was walking around aimlessly, probably no longer aware of his own existence or that of those around him.  
  
Rodolphus deeply regretted ever calling out to the boy.

‘Stay away from me,’ Rodolphus warned him. The boy didn’t say a word. His shoulders were still shaking and his head was lowered again. ‘I’m  _warning_ you, I’m going to blow your brains out if you don’t get the  _fuck_ away from -’

He fell silent when the boy started laughing, his bloodcovered hand raising. Rodolphus shot it but the boy was unimpressed – his hand started bleeding but he regardless took off his broken glasses and dropped them to the ground.

When he opened his eyes, his irises were bright, greenish yellow.

‘Sir,’ the boy whispered, his voice sounding strange, like it had not been used in a long time. Rodolphus swallowed thickly and backed another step away. The boy no longer looked damaged, he looked like he was perfectly aware of everything and why had Rodolphus ever even  _thought_ that this dangerous creature had been in need of help? Shock overcame him and he realized the boy had tricked him.  
  
The boy had been waiting for Rodolphus to give him a reason to hurt him.   
  
‘You should  _not_ have done that.’

The boy’s yellow eyes were cold, emotionless, like a cat’s. Rodolphus cursed and shot the boy again, panicking when he shot the boy in the stomach and he  _still_ didn’t die. He didn’t even have the sense to shoot him in the head – he didn’t  _understand._

The boy pressed a blood coated hand against his stomach and marveled at the sight of his own blood for a moment before he lowered his hand once more to rest by his sides.

He laughed again and Rodolphus thought that he had never heard a more terrifying sound than that.

The boy should’ve collapsed or in the very least feel pain. Rodolphus  _knew_ that – only zombies were capable of just carrying on after being shot, but zombies could not speak, zombies did not have eyes like this boy. Zombies didn't  _pretend_ they were hurt to draw attention, zombies didn't look for reasons to harm others.  
  
They just did.

‘You’ve made  _him_  angry now,’ the boy breathed, looking utterly insane, debauched. Rodolphus' head snapped to the side when he heard a sound, fear gripping his heart.

‘Who?’ he hysterically snapped, his eyes shifting over the area, trying to find where those noises were coming from. ‘Who is angry?  _What_ are you?!’

The boy hadn’t been bleeding at all, Rodolphus realized. This wasn’t the boy's own blood he was bathed in.

Something in the bushes moved and Rodolphus shot blindly at it, and his head whipped around when the boy was suddenly standing so close to him. He tried to shoot him again but he was out of bullets and he cursed, backing away.

His blood ran cold when he felt another body behind him, tall and strong. A hand clasped around his shoulder, a golden ring glimmering in the weak light of the setting sun. Rodolphus released a choked sob, his entire body now shaking in fear.  
  
He somehow knew. This was it.  
  
Rodolphus didn't fear death because he had always thought that it would come to him without good reason, merely out of necessity. But this... he had done this  _himself_ and that terrified him. These creatures could think for themselves and they were going to enter the town Rodolphus had been supposed to guard. They were going to be among people.  
  
They were going to slaughter the entire town.

‘I only wanted to help,’ he said, his voice pleading when he thought of all the process that would be lost if they were to infect and kill people, ‘please, I – you looked  _hurt_ , I never meant – I was  _scared._ ’

The boy cooed and Rodolphus shivered, taking halting, shaking breaths as the boy reached out a bleeding hand to brush over his cheek. He barely reached Rodolphus' shoulder and he looked young, so vulnerable. So beautiful.  
  
And then it hit him, right when Rodolphus studied the boy's face and realized why the boy had looked so familiar to him. This was Harry Potter. Harry Potter, who used to be Tom Riddle's partner. Harry Potter, who had betrayed the Order and who had taken off with the one man who could've cured all the infected - why hadn't Rodolphus recognized him? This was the boy they had been looking for for years now, because the Order had known that if they were to find him, they would find Tom Riddle. His picture had been spread all over the country.  
  
And standing right behind Rodolphus, couldn't be anyone else than Tom Riddle.

‘You only wanted to help,’ the boy named Harry whispered, soft, like a prayer and God, how had he stayed this  _young?_ He should be in his early thirties right now but he looked like he was still a teen. Rodolphus nodded and tears rolled over his face. He was fucking scared shitless.  
  
If Potter was like this, then Rodolphus didn't dare to imagine what Riddle was like right now. Riddle had always been known to be a cruel man and after he had had a fight with Potter in front of the Order, no one had seen him again. The Order had always said that Potter was a naive boy, willing to believe anything... But those yellow eyes, they spoke of wisdom that surpassed the boy's age entirely.  
  
They spoke of death and Rodolphus knew that he was about to die.

‘You can help,’ Harry continued to whisper, his beauty haunting, his whispers deafening, his eyes penetrating. Rodolphus nodded again in the hopes of warding off the pair from town. He briefly thought of his wife and how she had set someone's house on fire because she had been convinced that person had gotten infected and chills ran down his spine. If these two wouldn't destroy town, then she would when provoked. ‘Yes? Do you want to help?’

‘Yes – please, anything.  _Please._ '  _Just don't go into town._

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. He needn’t look to know that the Riddle was twice the boy’s height.

Harry smiled sweetly, looking so devastatingly  _innocent._

‘You can help us by stilling our hunger.’

Rodolphus opened and closed his mouth, unsure if he understood that right. Was he to hunt for them? He hesitantly nodded and the boy took his hand. Rodolphus' gun dropped to the ground and he watched as Harry lifted their joined hands, not a sound to be heard except for Rodolphus' wavering breaths. He was shaking like a leaf. Fear, he reckoned. The boy certainly knew how to induce fear in others.

The pain was excruciating when Harry suddenly dug his sharp teeth into his skin and Rodolphus screamed when Riddle bit him right in the throat, tearing out a chunk of flesh and leaving him to choke on his own blood. It all happened so fast and there was so  _much_ pain, his skin being ripped off straight from his flesh and air becoming hard to come by. Rodolphus' legs no longer were willing to carry him and he collapsed, but their hungry mouths followed.

His body was still twitching when they continued eating off him, feasting off his body.

One would say they were savages, others would say they were nothing short of the monsters they had spent all those years killing.

They just thought they were sustaining the lives they so desperately had fought to protect.

Once their hunger was stilled they both glanced up, red locking on yellow. There was something poetic about the bitemark on the boy’s collarbone – something poetic about how their positive emotions, their love, had driven them to become exactly that what they had hated for so long.  
  
Was it still love if they were no longer human, though, had it turned into a dark, strong sense of belonging? Neither knew. They had both died for one another, quite literally, and they had returned to each other too. Why question what was there when they could spend their time enjoying it instead?

Harry lunged forward and kissed his lover eagerly, greedily, with a hunger he had only acquired in the year that had passed after his own death. Their bloody hands linked and they sucked the blood right off their tongues, teeth sharp but never puncturing, not their lips, not to hurt each other. Never.

Tom took Harry's face in his hands and then licked the blood right off his chin, hungrily lapping at his fingers. Always hungry. So, so hungry for everything. Always eager to fill whatever void was inside of them.

The younger boy shivered and then mouthed at the man’s throat, the cells in their bodies already regenerating, working fast to keep their skin young and to mend their wounds. Harry could feel his own body pushing out the bullets from his wounds already.  
  
Life was good for them. They ate, they fucked, they traveled. They weren't picky when it came to food, sometimes settling for human flesh, sometimes settling for animals. It depended on what crossed their path.  
  
They slept when they were tired and fucked until either one of their bodies gave out. They repeated this process day by day, never quite sated, incapable of becoming so. Tom thought it was the virus. Harry thought it was his human heart that refused to beat for anyone other than Tom.  
  
The virus empowered them, weakened their sense of pain, heightened their sense of smell. Harry saw humans now as nothing but food, playthings. He often wondered to himself why Tom had returned to the empty shell of a person Harry used to be before turning into whatever they were right now. He had been so weak, so worthless.  
  
He couldn't for the life of him recall why he had thought the taste of blood was disgusting those weeks, months (Years? Harry lost track of the amount of time that had passed and now that their bodies no longer aged and death wasn't an option for the near future it was difficult to bring himself to care) ago when it was so delicious on Tom's tongue right now. The taste was rich, thick, metallic in all the right ways. 

The teen purred when his other half, his partner in crime, his lover, his teacher, his  _protector_ kicked over Rodolphus' chair and pressed him right against the tree, clawing eagerly at his chest and mouthing at the long column of his throat.

His name was Harry Potter.

He destroyed the few homes people had created, no longer in search of his own. 


End file.
